


S'il Vous Plaît

by MegaGhostQueen



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom!Bucky, Bottom?Loki, Complete, Drug Use, High School, M/M, Modern AU, Pining, Slang, StudentBucky, Surprise Ending, Surprise Ship, Top!Bucky, because i love her as a modern character, high schoolers being their cringey selves, just marvel characters as modern students, long fic, low key tho don't worry they're high schoolers, shuri is a queen, student, teacher, teachersteve, top!steve, under the influence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-11
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2019-10-08 05:36:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17380601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MegaGhostQueen/pseuds/MegaGhostQueen
Summary: “It’s beginner French, how hard can it be?”Parties, football games, school dances, preparing for college. The last year of high school is busy enough as it is. Bucky has to navigate all of this in his final year and more. He just needs to pass his beginner French class in order to graduate, but his new ridiculously hot French teacher is making that a little difficult.And how can he focus on his final year of school when he can't stop thinking about a new green eyed transfer student?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Honestly just marvel characters as modern students, and me having fun now when school is hell.  
> I'm kinda new to AO3 (not to writing tho lol) so please let me know what you think, suggestions, reviews, criticisms are all appreciated because I want to write more of this but if yall have ideas or like feedback I love that.
> 
> Keep in mind that Bucky, while 18 years old, is a student, which creates an unfair power dynamic. Steve of course never takes advantage of him, but don't read if sensitive to those themes.

“Honestly Bucky, if you hadn’t waited until the last minute to complete your language requirement we wouldn’t be having this conversation,” Natasha said, rolling her eyes.

Bucky sighed for the fourth time in the past three minutes, “I just don’t understand! I’m going to take this class for one year, probably not learn anything and never think about it again. How will it prove that I’ve become a well-rounded student?”

“Well, technically it’s supposed to encourage you to keep learning it in the future if you had taken it in freshman year when you were supposed to.”

He couldn’t argue with her, Natasha had warned even him this would happen way before it had even become a problem. In freshman year she had tried to get him to take a language to get it out of the way, he might even learn something from it she had said. But he had convinced himself that honestly, taking a beginner language course would be easy, and he could just take it later. It had come to the point where he would deliberately not take it to prove a point to himself that he could show everyone that he could push it to the last possible minute and still not let it get the best of him. Three years into the future, ignoring all of Natasha’s advice, it had become a monolith standing in between him, and his diploma.

“Easy for you to say, you didn’t even have to deal with it in the first place.” This was also true. Natasha, being the subtle overachiever that she is, was already fluent in Russian. She took the exam within the first month of freshman year and checked that item off her list for good. Bucky was neither fluent, nor even decent in any of the 180+ languages that existed on the earth other than English, and unfortunately, sarcasm did not count as a foreign language.

“I think you’re overthinking this, Bucky,” Natasha said, logic always prevailing, “It’s beginner French, how hard can it be?” 

* * *

 

What Bucky soon realized, is that whatever bilingual people have to say about learning languages, is bullshit. Of course, to someone that has been speaking two languages since the day they were born, what’s adding a few new words to them? But to Bucky and all his monolingualism, taking beginner French was a lot more than learning how to order food and writing simple conjugation, and he realized this as soon as he sat down and his French teacher stepped into the room.

Some context: there were two French teachers at Bucky’s school, and they were both on two very far sides of the spectrum of French educators. The first was Caroline Beattie, a teacher who insisted everyone call her by her first name and was born in Portland Oregon by her two extremely not-French parents. She was nice, but somehow she believed that her experiences from her semester abroad in Paris over a decade ago qualified as preparing her students for the exam. The other, Katie Aubin, was practically a caricature of a French person. A 63-year-old, five-foot-two bundle of ratty black hair, bright red lipstick, and anger, who was notorious for her extended knowledge of French insults and always smelling of cigarette smoke. With this in mind, Bucky had assumed he would be getting one of those two, and had planned on watching Netflix in French with English subtitles and a metric fuck-ton of prayers to pass the class. Which is why when his new French teacher stepped into the class, he was taken aback for several reasons.

The first was his eyes. This teacher had striking blue eyes that looked like endless clear blue skies Bucky could feel himself falling through forever. Next, a grey cashmere sweater stretching over his broad shoulders, doing nothing to conceal the muscle Bucky was sure was hidden under its surface. Finally, his voice.

_“Bonjour, Mesdames et Messieurs,”_ a deep voice hushed the room quickly, sending ripples of warmth spreading through Bucky’s chest, _“j'espère que vous ne pouvez pas voir mon inquiétude car franchement cela est ma première journée enseignant dans cette nouvelle école et je suis plus qu’un petit peux terrifié.”_

_[Translation: “Hello ladies and gentlemen, I hope you all don’t see how nervous I am because honestly this is my first day at this new school and I’m more than slightly terrified.”]_

There were some confused looks shared between the students. Did anyone understand what he said? Was this the right class? Bucky just sat stunned, wanting him to speak again. Was _he_ his teacher? The man just broke out into laughter, sending even more confused looks flying around the room.

“Don’t worry, don’t worry,” he said, laughter subsiding, “I’m just messing with you guys. This is beginner French, I’m not going to expect any of you to understand that.” There was a collective sigh of relief from the class, and his smile grew even wider. He suddenly turned and wrote his name on the board. Bucky couldn’t help but notice his ass looked amazing in his tailored jeans.

“Let’s try that again, shall we? Maybe in a language everyone speaks. I’m Mr. Rogers, and I’m teaching your French class this year. Now,” his face shifted, suddenly serious, “I may be new at this particular school, but I’m not new to teaching high school, so I know all the tricks. Not even twenty minutes ago I caught this kid listening to music because he thought he could hide his Bluetooth earbuds with his hoodie.” He suddenly broke into a smile, making eye contact with every student. “Sure, I’m a French teacher, but I know more than grammar and the French Revolution I can tell you all that much.” His gaze rested on Bucky, and he swore he could feel sparks in his stomach. Steve clapped his hands with a smile and said: “Let’s start off with introductions shall we?” 

* * *

 

The next few weeks were hell for Bucky. Not only did he have to deal with all the homework for his other classes, but he couldn't focus on this fucking french class to save his life. He was absolute trash at learning a language in the first place, if his middle school Spanish grades were anything to go by, but how could he focus on conjugation and sentence structure when his teacher was so mind-blowingly hot? Everytime Mr. Rogers turned around to write something on the board he couldn’t help but stare at the broad shoulders, the toned thighs, the beautiful ass his conservative clothing could never hide. His jawline, his smile, everything about him sent Bucky’s mind straight into the gutter. When he leaned over Bucky to check his work his smell was intoxicating; deodorant, mint, and another smell Bucky couldn’t quite place, surrounded him and he wished he could just tilt his face into his teacher’s neck and breath it in all day.

Bucky convinced himself that this was all fine, thinking a teacher was attractive was something that happened to all students. What made it worse was that Mr. Rogers’ personality was fucking stellar. He genuinely cared about the success of his students, he always welcomed questions, and he encouraged people to think. This was a breath of fresh air to students who had been suffocated by lecture-based lessons and just copying notes for hours a day. Everyone loved him. It was good to get a teacher who’s dreams and goals of challenging the next generation hadn’t been crushed by the American education system.

Despite all of this, he was still failing the class. He was abysmal at this damned language, yet he still had to pass. The first few quizzes weren’t bad, he had just barely scraped by, but that was the easy introductory stuff. When it came to actually speaking he couldn’t remember the right words, and conjugation was a mess. How could he remember all these irregular verbs?

One day when the class was working silently on a grammar worksheet, Bucky was zoning out, staring at the blond hair he seemed to always be thinking about. He was imagining how soft it would be to touch. to run his hands through when Shuri managed to catch his eye from across the class. She smirked and pointed to her phone.

For the record, Bucky absolutely loved Shuri. He found her hilarious, and Shuri knew that. It made her very proud to make Bucky, who was usually seen stone-faced and scowling, snicker and burst out laughing at one of her quips. They hung out sometimes, getting lunch or coffee during the mornings (Shuri hung out with several different groups, simultaneously partying every weekend with the badass squad of girls dubbed by the rest of their grade as the Queens of Color, while also founding the school’s robotics club, and spending time with smaller groups with people like Bucky), and Bucky was at his most relaxed around her.

“Check your texts!” She half yelled, half whispered. Bucky took his phone and subtly hid it under the desk to open his texts while keeping an eye out for Mr. Rogers, who was circling the room slowly in case anyone had questions. Shuri’s smiling profile picture met his eyes when he opened up the conversation.

_maybe if u spent less time drooling over the teacher and more time working ud be passing this class_

He sent her a dirty look, but couldn’t keep it for long when she burst out snorting with laughter. Mr. Rogers gave them a look and raised an eyebrow, which sent a tingling feeling in Bucky’s stomach, which he suppressed quickly. He eagerly switched his attention from verb-noun agreement to respond to the text.

_What makes it seem like I’m drooling?_

He looked over at Shuri to indicate he responded and saw her smiling as she read what he had sent. She hid her phone behind her notebook to type her message.

_bruh there’s like a permanent puddle on ur desk_

He glanced up quickly to make sure Mr. Rogers was focused on another student but immediately turned to his phone again.

_I might be interested in my french teacher…_ _So what?_

The three dots appeared and then disappeared. He looked up to see what was taking her so long, only to see her having a whispered conversation with Mr. Rogers. He couldn’t hear it from where he was sitting, but he could see her smiling, charmingly, and Mr. Roger’s smile in return. Even so, he held his hand out, and Shuri admitted defeat, setting her phone in the center of his palm.

“You can get it back after class.” He said, still with a smile. While he was walking over to his desk, Shuri gave turned to Bucky and flipped him off jokingly. He shrugged his hands up defensively, mouthing “Not my fault.” She laughed and turned back to her grammar sheet for the last fifteen minutes of class.

Bucky, a little satisfied she had gotten caught, sent her more texts to read when she got her phone back:

_Haha, clearly I am the superior sneak-texter. Remember that next time you try to roast me in class._

He thought briefly before sending his next text, but he decided that she would understand. He and Shuri were incredibly close, but they were still good friends, and if she already knew, he might as well tell someone about how he felt.

_Okay though I am crazy for liking him? Like it’s not just me that thinks he’s ridiculously attractive. Plus he’s so nice its kind of impossible not to fall in love with him._

He tried to focus on his work for the rest of class, but only got a few questions done before people started packing up their things for lunch- four minutes before the bell was going to ring.

_“Tout le monde, pour les devoirs: terminer les exercices sur cette page et la suivante pour lundi prochaine,_ and you all know you can email me if you have any questions. Have a good weekend everyone, and don’t forget you phone Shuri.”

_[Translation: Everyone, for homework: finish the exercises on this page and the next one for next Monday,]_

Everyone sped out of the classroom as soon as he had finished addressing them, and Bucky was going to join them, until Mr. Rogers suddenly added, “James, can I talk to you for a moment?”

Shuri turned her head and winked at him as she got her phone, but left quickly, and suddenly Bucky and Mr. Rogers were the only people in the classroom. Mr. Rogers came around to the front of the desk and leaned back on it, hands by his sides.

“I was wondering if you would be willing to talk for a moment about something personal?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all, thanks for the kudos and thanks to those of you commented!  
> This chapter was kinda hard cause I always find the second installment harder to write than the first, but by the end i had so much fun with it so I hope y'all enjoy it!

“I was wondering if you would be willing to talk for a moment about something personal?” Mr. Rogers asked. 

_ Fuck no _ .

“Yeah, uh, of course.”

Now Bucky was going to be alone in the classroom with the man who’s made his heart rate go up one hundred beats per minute everytime he calls on him. His stubble, his jawline, his forearms, all to himself. Could forearms be sexy? Was that weird? 

Against his own will, Bucky approached the desk so he could be closer to the other man.

“Bucky, I wanted to talk about your performance in this class,” Steve looked into his eyes sincerely, and Bucky again thought for the umpteenth time how caring this man was. He genuinely wanted Bucky to succeed, he could see that, however, he couldn’t help the hot rise of shame that came with disappointing people who cared about him.

“Mr. Rogers, I’m actually trying I promise,” he couldn’t meet his eyes, “I know it doesn’t look like it, but I am. I need to pass this class and I know I can do it, I just need-”

“Help.” Mr. Rogers interrupted him. A small smile teased the corner of his mouth. “Bucky, I know it can be embarrassing asking questions in front of everyone in a classroom, but I can’t help you if you don’t speak up.”

“Of course, Mr. Rogers, I understand.” Bucky felt flustered, he didn’t know how to respond. Mr. Rogers took one step closer, and Bucky made a mental note of the mere three feet in between them. 

“You remind me a lot of myself when I was your age, Bucky. I could never admit when I was in need of help, and that got me into a lot of dangerous situations.” 

Bucky was pulled into reality. It hadn’t occurred to him that his teacher had a life before he became a teacher. Now that he was thinking about it, he knew nothing about him. Hell, he didn’t even know his first name! All of a sudden he not only wanted to be close to him, run his hands through his hair, look at all the shades of eyes, feel the muscle under his clothes; he wanted to know all the decisions that had led him into this classroom, all the events that had made the caring, supporting person before him. 

He dared to take a step closer and couldn’t help but notice the rise and fall of his chest, the collarbones he wanted to trace with the tips of his fingers half concealed under the collar of his shirt. He had to force himself to pull his gaze up into the other man’s eyes.

“What kind of dangerous situations?” He saw the other man’s Adam’s apple bob up and down as he swallowed. Was he nervous? Could he make him nervous? 

“Well, I won’t go into detail, but let’s just say there are some regions of France that aren’t very accepting.” Bucky was very aware of how easy it would be to just take one small step forward and press his lips against his. To feel the strong line of his jaw and their chests together and the taste of his breath-

Mr. Rogers placed two strong hands on Bucky’s shoulders, “If you don’t feel comfortable asking questions in class, come meet me in my office after school hours, and we can go through the work together.” 

Like a splash of cold water, he patted Bucky on the shoulder and turned swiftly so he was suddenly standing on the other side of his desk. The moment had passed so quickly Bucky was left slightly disoriented. 

“I’m sorry for keeping you,” Mr. Rogers smiled, collecting his papers, “if you go now you will still have time to enjoy lunch with your friends.”

Bucky rushed to the door before he accidentally made this situation very embarrassing. “Thanks, Mr. Rogers.” He mumbled. 

“And Bucky?” Mr. Rogers asked him as he opened the door, “Some advice from me to you: if you really want to improve, maybe refrain from exchanging text messages in my class in the future?”

* * *

 

The next day, Bucky couldn’t stop the spikes of nervousness in his stomach. He didn’t know if he could look Mr. Rogers in the eyes after their conversation, which had led to what he had done last night. 

He was lying in bed, trying to go to sleep, but he couldn’t stop his thoughts from turning over and over again in his mind.

While he usually thought about his French teacher in increasingly inappropriate ways, it had never been more than that, just thoughts. His mind had been reeling after their conversation.  _ He knew _ .

In the dark of his room, Bucky kept going back to the texts he had sent Shuri in class. Not only was there the very embarrassing mention of him drooling on his desk over him (which he is still adamantly against for the record) but he willingly dug himself a self-incriminating grave.

_ Okay though I am crazy for liking him? _

_ Like it’s not just me that thinks he’s ridiculously attractive. _

_ Plus he’s so nice its kind of impossible not to fall in love with him. _

You’re obviously overreacting, Mr. Rogers was so incredibly good looking it’s very unlikely that not one of his students in his entire teaching career had a crush on him.

_ Yes, but had any of them practically confessed to it? _ Bucky thought to himself. 

He sighed in frustration and turned over onto his back. He thought of when Mr. Rogers had patted him on the shoulder before turning away from him. That had probably been the most contact they had ever shared, apart from the times their fingers had accidentally brushed when handing over papers, or when… nope, that was it. 

He remembered those strong hands, the way his fingers felt pressing over the muscle. Bucky placed his own hand where Mr. Rogers’ had been. He began to massage the muscle, the other hand tracing the line of hair that disappeared under the waistband of his boxer shorts. He didn’t remember when his eyes had drifted closed, whether it was from fatigue or the heat sinking it’s way ever so slowly lower and lower. 

The hand on his shoulder drifted from his shoulder to chest, lightly brushing over his nipple, and felt his chest sharply rise from his intake of breath. He imagined they were in class, alone like they were today, and he would sitting on his teachers’ desk, legs open in an invitation as he felt his own heat press against the restricting uniform. Mr. Rogers’ fingers would trace circles over his nipples, feeling them harden through the uniform. 

Bucky ignored how suffocating the covers of his bed were becoming, and felt perspiration bead on his skin as he played and pinched with his nipple with his own hand. In both his imagination and real life, a hand sank below the waistband of his boxers and grabbed his already leaking cock, beginning to rub it slowly. 

Mr. Rogers’ would move slowly, deliberately, praising him, showering him with compliments. He would sink to his knees, a tongue darting out to catch the precome dripping from the head of Bucky’s swollen head. 

Bucky groaned, his voice thick with arousal, his imagination as vivid as if it was happening in front of him. Bucky’s hand was moving fast, wet with slick, his breath was loud in the silent room, hot and desperate. 

As Mr. Rogers’ perfect lips connected to the tip, Bucky imagined his tongue doing sinful things, licking thick stripes from the base to the tip, flicking into the slit. 

He moaned, his hand flying, needing the release, heat pooling to the base of his cock, at the brink of spilling over into bliss. 

The image of his French teacher on his knees, cheeks blushed and hollowed and lips stretched over his student’s cock, filled Bucky’s head as waves of heat and arousal spilled over into his hand, nipple pinched hard in between his fingers. 

As he laid in the damp covers in the aftermath of his orgasm, still breathing heavily and twitching slightly, shame and guilt washed over him.

This was so wrong. 

* * *

 

This is what made Bucky duck his head every time he passed someone, keep his eyes firmly on his notes in class, never making eye contact with anyone. 

Natasha noticed he was acting weirdly almost immediately and had asked what was wrong. Bucky dismissed her with a non-committal “Not feeling very well,” and while she obviously wasn’t convinced, he didn’t bother to elaborate. 

_ Everyone knows _ , he thought to himself,  _ everyone can tell how gross you are _ . 

Of course, no one knew, but Bucky’s anxiety kept interfering with his reasoning.  

It wasn’t until lunch when he was surrounded by people he soon realized… they didn’t give a single shit. He could relax knowing that he was just another face in the sea of other teenagers, and none of them could hear his thoughts, despite how loud they seemed to Bucky. 

Eating lunch with Clint, Tony, and Bruce seemed to prove this fact, definitely not noticing anything different with Bucky. However, all of their attention was at the entrance of the cafeteria. 

Maria Hill, the student body president, was standing with her Vice President, Phil Coulson. 

“Can I get your attention everyone?” Phil tried to have his voice heard above the bustle and chatter of the cafeteria. He wasn’t having much luck. “Guys? Just for a second?” He didn’t look embarrassed that people took more interest in the strange color the lemonade was beginning to take or the theories of how often the meat was reused than whatever he had to say. His face expressed a more… bored look. Bucky half expected him to walk off saying “I don’t care, go without my information see how long you guys make it.” Maria Hill quickly took control of the situation.

“Could everyone do us a favor and  _ shut up _ !” The hall immediately became deathly silent. Maria Hill had too much power and too good of a repertoire with the faculty to piss off. “Thank you. The faster we get this message out, the faster you can all get back to your food.”

“You call this shit food?” A stranger called from the crowd, eliciting a few snickers from the area. Maria sent a dirty look to the source of the laughter and it immediately stopped. Phil quickly stepped in.

“It’s the beginning of the football season, and next Friday is the Homecoming game! You all know what that means-”

“Homecoming Party!” The crowd yelled, and the chaos was set in motion again. Who was going to host? Who was gonna hook up with who? Strategies of who was going to bring what illegal substances and plans of what to wear and who to ask immediately had conversations blooming everywhere. Maria Hill rolled her eyes and slammed an empty tray nearby onto the lunch table. The conversations died to whispers. 

“It’s not a  _ party _ . The school is organizing a Homecoming  _ Dance _ in the gym after the game, and principle Fury would like me to remind you of some rules.

“There will be no illegal drugs and/or alcohol at the game  _ or _ the dance. He realizes he can’t control what happens afterward,” she sent a pointed look at Tony, which only provoked a smirk from him in return, “we want to promote a good image to represent the school. The game will be hosted here and start at 5:00, and the dance will start that evening at 8:30 until 11:00. Volunteers to help set up can sign up on the sheet that will be posted on the billboard after school.”

She was quickly losing the attention of the crowd now that they had gotten all the information they needed, but she didn’t try to get it back. “Make sure to wear the school colors and remember  _ teachers are supervising  _ the dance, so don’t even try!” She stalked off, Phil Coulson following behind her.

The cafeteria was filled with noise, the collective excitement from all the kids bubbled up into energy that filled the room that infected everyone, even Bucky.  Bucky honestly enjoyed school events. Well, not necessarily the events themselves, mostly what usually came after.

“Y’all already know,” Tony said, extending his arms as if the school was bowing down at his feet, “after party at my place, no need to thank me.”

“We weren’t going to thank you, you do this every year.” Clint laughed.

“Yeah, but we’re seniors now, none of that Bring-Your-Own-Booze-That’s-Just-A-Mix-Of-Whatever-Your-Parents-Wouldn’t-Notice-Disappear-From-The-Back-Of-Their-Liquor-Cabinet, Lights-Out-By-Midnight shit. This is the first and last high school Homecoming party we’re ever gonna have, I’m gonna make sure no one’s gonna forget it.”

“What, like how you forgot Prom night last year?” Bruce asked teasingly.

“How was I supposed to know the alcohol content was so high in whatever that was?” Tony put his hands up defensively.

“Well if you don’t know the language the label is written in, maybe you shouldn’t drink the contents?”

“That’s irrelevant.” Tony dismissed the comment. 

“The next question is, who are we gonna ask?” Clint looked around the cafeteria as if a girl was suddenly gonna pop out from one of the tables at that second with a proposal.

“Well one of us won’t have any problem with that. Just look by the trash cans.” Bucky had noticed a group of sophomore girls giggling in their direction, but it was clear who they were looking at. Tony was player, everyone knew that. Hooked up with several girls at every party and never stayed long enough to trade Snapchats. Yet despite his reputation, girls couldn't help but want to make him fall for them. 

“Actually, I already have a date,” Tony stated matter of factly, not even looking over at the girls ogling him. The rest of the boys were dumbfounded. This was  _ Tony _ , One Night Stand Champion, Professional Ghoster. He had a real date?

“Um, excuse me?” Bruce asked, incredulously. 

“Funnily enough, she goes to the school we’ll be playing against on Friday, so she’s not a made up girl, she’s real." Tony boasted, even him recognizing how incredible this was.

After scrolling through her Instagram, they noticed why Tony actually seemed interested in this girl. Taking all AP and Honors classes, already been accepted Early Decision into MIT, and gorgeous strawberry blond hair. If Bucky was straight, he’d probably be into her too.

“Damn this Virginia girl looks pretty sweet. Sure you’re not gonna back out at the last second?” Clint asked.

Bucky put on his best “I’m the best guy in the whole fucking world, prove me wrong” face and said in a mock-Tony voice, “Hey guys, I’m Tony. I have a 4.5 GPA, gotten accepted into two Ivy Leagues before senior year even started, but I still can’t get over my fear of commitment.” 

Tony chucked several french fries at him while the other two laughed so hard they almost couldn’t breathe.

“Well, what about you Barnes? Who are you gonna ask?” Tony retaliated, putting him on the spot.

Bucky hesitated right before he was gonna open his mouth.  He almost said something he’d never be able to come back from.

Because the name he was going to say belonged to his fucking French teacher.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey y'all hoped you guys loved reading this as much as i loved writing it. Remember, I live off of comments and reviews, so I would greatly appreciate it if yall could drop a quick word down below. I'm hesitant to commit to a schedule cause school is already hard enough, but now that i have a solid plan for this, i'm gonna write literally whenever i can I've never had this much fun on a fic


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, just thought I would post a small chapter before things get really interesting. School is super intense rn and so I probably won't post anything until the week after next :-/ I'm devastated. But I have a clear vision of where things are headed so bookmark this story to keep updated, trust me, you don't want to miss where this story is going!

In the days leading up to the dance, the halls were buzzing with excitement. While the stress of school had already set in, and the teachers were not pulling their punches in the slightest, plans of what to wear and what to bring to Tony’s after party seemed to find it’s a way in every conversation. However, the anxieties that most were concerned with on all grade levels, was the school dance.

The Homecoming Dance was the first school event of the year, and it was treated as an omen for how the rest of the year would go. If you turned up single and stayed single for the rest of the night, that was pretty much how the rest of your year was going to turn out. But if you managed to get with someone, then your romantic endeavors in the near future at least would have some good Karma.

This was, of course, all bullshit. But high schoolers, especially the upperclassmen, seemed to enjoy returning to their seventh-grade selves, seeking out potential options of who they could ask, or who would ask them, setting out their plan of attack.

People had already been asked out to the dance in a variety of different ways. Some in a more subtle way, either being asked out through a text message or even on Snapchat (that was already a sure sign it wasn’t going to last). Most people decided posters or playing a song on someone’s borrowed Bluetooth speaker was the way to go. One couple had even decided prom had arrived several months early, and Peter Quill had driven his truck up to the very front of the school building outside of Gamora’s classroom, playing the song _Brandy (You’re a Fine Girl)_ on the stereo with a large banner attached to the side saying: “WILL YOU BE THE _SEA_ TO MY _SAILOR_?”

Bucky wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been asked, and neither was he disappointed. Being gay, that left a very small percentage of the student body left as options, and he wasn’t thrilled with any of them. It was taken as fact within some groups at school that Tony was gay, but Bucky was pretty sure that that was a mix of hormones, a constant need for attention, wanting to rebel against the standards of his parents, and a complete lack of emotional availability rather than actual homosexuality. There was Loki, a weird Norwegian transfer student, but Bucky knew nothing about him, apart from the fact that he was pretty isolated; he wasn’t sure whether it was because Loki wanted to be, or because everyone was too interested in his adoptive brother. Bruce was also bisexual, there were even rumors floating around that the awkward nerdy science geek was an absolute monster in bed. Bucky was too close him as friends to want to find out whether or not the rumors were true, but he couldn’t deny he had spent quite a lot of time imagining what it would be like.

Bucky didn’t need to be asked out. His confidence wouldn’t crumble because of something so silly.

He just couldn’t stop thinking about whether a certain someone would be at the dance.

Up until this point, he had only seen Mr. Rogers in the classroom, nowhere else, so it would be interesting, exciting even, to see him in a different environment. Which was stupid, because even he was there, he would be there to _supervise_ the dance, not _attend_ it. He would sit in the corner awkwardly, talking to teachers about curriculums and their least favorite students, making sure no one tried to sneak in alcohol, smoke in the stalls, or do something that would give the school a seriously bad reputation. If he was there, Bucky would be no different from any other student, just another hormonal teenager pretending to be more mature than they were and always looking for a chance to tempt fate because doing something illegal was always more fun when there was a high chance of getting caught.

Mr. Rogers wouldn’t think he was any different from the students. While his simple movements sent Bucky reeling, the tones of his voice made him shudder, and he intruded on every thought in his head, Bucky wouldn’t even be able to separate himself from the hundreds of other students on the halls. He’s the person in Bucky’s dreams, and he probably doesn’t spare a moment thinking about him. Mr. Rogers could drive him insane, and he wouldn’t even notice.

And that’s the thought that scares Bucky the most.

* * *

 

“It’s Wednesday, everyone, you know what that means. _Tout le monde prenez vos cahiers de dictées.” [Translation: Everyone take out your dictation notebooks.]_

There was a chorus of groans from around the class, but Mr. Rogers just smiled. “Come on you guys, it's a good exercise! You get to practice so many skills in learning a new language.”

Dictation. While Bucky was pretty bad at most things he did in this class, dictation was at the top of the list. You would think that an exercise where all you have to do is write what the teacher says out loud on paper would be easy, but of course, the French language had to make it difficult. There are several words that sound exactly the same, like _est_ and _et_. Bucky wouldn’t be able to tell the difference in between _è_ , _é_ , and _ê_ even if his life depended on it. And then there are sounds that could be written in several different ways like _au_ , _eau_ , and _ô_. All of this combined with exceptions to every grammatical rule, and writing a simple passage becomes a minefield of mistakes. Apparently, the trick is to figure out the right way to spell everything by looking at the context of the sentence and the part of speech, but bold of anyone to assume that Bucky was anywhere near literate enough to be able to dissect a language like that.

“Mr. Rogers, why don’t we do something fun like watch a movie in French or something?” Someone said, barely audible over the sound of backpacks opening and desks being rearranged.

“As much as I would love to bring baguettes and coffee and sit around watching _The Adventures of Tintin_ all day, I actually enjoy teaching, even if the students don’t always agree with me. You all have an exam you have to pass at the end of the year, and I have to keep my job.” He flashed another smile as found the text he was going to read, “So why don’t we help each other out?”

Before everyone could settle in, Shuri called out, “Are you going to Homecoming, Mr. Rogers?” She flashed Bucky a scheming smile from across the room. All Bucky could do was turn bright red and look firmly at his paper.

As soon as she had mentioned it, the class fell easily back into disarray, students asking Mr. Rogers left and right on whether or not he was going to the game, what he was going to wear to the dance, and—

“Are you going with a special someone, Mr. Rogers?” Someone called out. The whole class gasped and giggled.

“Are you even dating someone right now?” Someone asked him, getting up out of their seat.

“Of course he is, look how uncomfortable he is!” Their friend responded.

“Oh my God, is it a teacher at this school?”

“Someone find his Facebook!”

Bucky sent a glare in Shuri’s direction, hoping to send her all of his unwanted feelings. It had been her fault this conversation had even started. But she wasn’t paying the slightest bit of attention to him. She, like everyone else, was staring at Mr. Rogers.

“Oh my God look at him!”

“Mr. Rogers you’re being so obvious right now.”

Bucky was surprised to see that Mr. Rogers had turned a bright shade of red, and he was smiling tensely at the rest of the class, trying unsuccessfully to get them to calm down. They were committed now. They were going to get an answer out of him whether he gave it up, or they had to scroll through every corner of the internet to find it. Mr. Rogers seemed to realize that too.

“If you all have to know, I’m not bringing anyone to the dance.” The class fell back slightly, getting an answer easier than they expected to, but not one they wanted. “However, even if I was dating someone, I don’t think I would take them to a high school dance.”

“Then you are dating someone!”

“Come one then, you have to tell us now.”

“I bet it’s that math teacher we always see him talking to.”

“Dumbass, she’s married!”

“A football game is the perfect date!”

“You could introduce all of us to her!”

“All right everyone, _asseyez-vous_!” _[Translation: Sit down!]_ Mr. Rogers called out, a serious look replacing his usual smile. The sternness of his tone took everyone by surprise. He hadn't ever spoken like that to the class. Even if he didn’t keep the facade for long, once everyone had sat down in their seats and stopped all conversations, he didn't seem to completely relax. “I am going to the dance to _supervise_ , and I will support the football team, which will give me a chance to get to know some of you outside if the classroom.” He looked at every student, “I am _not_ dating anyone, and I would appreciate it if you all wouldn’t go poking around for potential girlfriends.” Some students looked at each other knowingly. That was just begging for someone to come across something, but that would have to be discovered later.

“I do understand why some of you are so invested about my life outside of school.” He made direct eye contact with Bucky, and he felt like he was unraveling every dream he’d ever had about him. “And I’d be lying if I wasn’t hoping one of you would find something interesting enough to approach me about it."

Bucky could swear Mr. Rogers was talking to him specifically. It was like he could read the thoughts in Bucky’s head, which would have been all right if all of them didn’t scream _“Kiss me!”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Waddup, hope yall enjoyed the chapter, sry it was kinda short. Remember the kudos and the comments keep me alive (srsly yall dont know how much i love them they make my day) and share w ur friends so we can all freak out together. Until next time bby's!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the night of the Homecoming Dance and everyone has been planning for a week. However, some plans either go very badly or extremely well, depending on how you look at it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry for the little hiatus, I know y'all missed me! In return from my long break, I have a chapter that's almost four (4) times as long as a regular one!!! I'm so excited to share this chapter, a lot of shit goes down and I just can't wait to see your reactions.   
> I guess I should add that I don't condone drinking or smoking, but I live by one rule: "Be smart, and if you can't be smart, be safe."   
> I had so much fun writing this chapter, literally it's past one am right now but I just have so much fun writing this story and I was so excited to finish this chapter that I had to post it asap.  
> I really hope you guys like it, don't forget to comment what you think and share with whatever fanfiction Discords or Tumblr blogs you're on, and really you guys don't know how happy it makes me when I get that kudos notification.  
> See you guys on the other side!

The harsh light of the laptop screen on Bucky’s lap was the only thing illuminating his dark room. It was eerily quiet outside, not even the urban coyotes or raccoons were rustling in the garbage bins. It was as if the world was holding its breath, straining its ears to hear the thoughts turning and whispering in Bucky’s head. 

He had finished the last of his homework, submitting his English essay half an hour before the deadline, and he was just scrolling one time-wasting website after another, the bright light from the screen repelling any feeling of fatigue he would have gotten.

The dance was in one day, and on social media, everyone was wide awake solidifying their plans. Bucky’s night had already been planned. Pre-game after school with Bruce, Clint, and Natasha, have fun at the game, eat as much free food as he could at the dance, and then get a ride with Tony to his house to help set up before the rest of the senior class arrived. He was actually really excited, he hadn’t had a chance to really relax since the semester had started, and he was looking forward to getting really fucked up. He wanted to have a good time with his friends, but he would be lying if he wasn’t also hoping that for one night, maybe Mr. Rogers wouldn’t be invading his thoughts.

He suddenly had an idea. It was a crazy, just a spur of the moment thought. But before he could think better of it, or stop himself, he opened up a new tab on his laptop, he searched for the school’s official Facebook page. Looking at who followed it, he found the official school profiles of the faculty and staff. He scrolled through the profiles, scrolling past the head of school, the director of admissions, the head of departments, the science teachers, art teachers, math teachers-

Finally, close to the bottom of the list, among the profiles of the other language teachers, was the profile of a Mr. Steve Rogers. 

So his first name was Steve, that was good to know. Sparks flew up his spine, and he couldn’t help but bite his lip to stop himself from smiling.  _ Steve _ . Just thinking it made him happy. He clicked on his profile. 

There wasn’t much to find. It was just his official account from the school, so Bucky wasn’t expecting much. There weren’t any posts, statuses, comments, likes, or anything. There was only his profile picture, a professional looking headshot, probably taken at his former job because his hair was a lot longer than it was now, and a very short and disappointing bio.

_ French language and literature teacher at Shield High School. Contact below for business inquiries.  _

Bucky clicked the link in the profile and it directed him to Mr. Rogers- Steve’s- Linkedin account. 

“Now we’re getting somewhere,” Bucky whispered under his breath, excitement quivering at his fingertips. If he was smart enough, he could dig below the surface of the two-dimensional persona Mr. Rogers arrives in school as, and he would be able to sink his teeth into the person he knew Steve was under all the professionalism. 

But even his Linkedin profile didn’t yield much information. It listed Bucky’s school as the current place of employment, and two other locations. The location he worked at before he came to Bucky’s school was an international school in New York and the second was a public school in France. Bucky opened up a second tab and looked up the New York school.

The first thing that came up was the school’s website, which Bucky didn’t bother looking at. If Steve- Bucky shivered every time he thought of the name-  stopped working there wouldn’t be anything he could gain from that. 

However, the school’s Facebook came up right below it, and that was something Bucky would be willing to investigate. 

He scrolled lazily through the advertisements and announcements for the new school year and the photographs of the last graduating class. He was about to give up when he saw a picture of Steve holding flowers, shaking the hand of a short man in a suit. 

_ “Steve Rogers was admired by students and faculty alike, and we hate to see him leave our school community of which he has become such an integral part. We wish you the best of luck Steve, wherever you may go, and hope that those you meet in the future appreciate you as much we do!” _ the caption read. Bucky read it over and over again. 

“He really did make an impact,” he whispered to himself, looking at the picture again. He realized Steve was tagged in the photo. Half expecting it to be another professional account, Bucky clicked on the tagged profile.

To his surprise and delight, he realized this was Steve’s personal Facebook account. His heart battering in his chest, he held back the urge to scroll and like all the pictures immediately, sharing them with every he knew. He wanted this to be a secret. He wanted to be the only student at Shield High School to know who Steve really was. 

Bucky had a realization. He snapped his laptop closed, all the light disappearing from his room, so he was sitting on his bed alone in the dark. 

What the  _ hell _ was he doing? He was stalking his French teacher on the internet because of a selfish crush! How did he get here? He was about to close all the tabs and clear his history and get rid of all the evidence there could be- when he had another thought.

_ You can’t be the first person to have done this _ . 

This wasn’t weird, he had spent countless nights up late with his friends looking for funny pictures of his teachers. It didn’t mean he was a stalker or anything, he was just a teenager who knew how to use the internet too well for his own good. He wasn’t creepy at all... right?

He opened his laptop again, his eyes adjusting to the harsh light again, and bookmarked the page. Then closed all the tabs and cleared his history. He wasn’t sure he could cross that line just yet.

* * *

No one was focused in class. It was the day of the Homecoming Game, and everyone was buzzing with excitement. The teachers felt the energy as well and tried their best to get everyone to do their work, but to no avail. Everyone was talking about final hiccups in their plans, times and locations of when to meet up. Expectations were being put up very high, and countless wagers and bets were being made of how the night was going to go. This was everyone’s first opportunity to  _ really _ lose their minds.

Bucky met up with the rest of the group at the front entrance after school so they could all take the train together. It ended up being a massive group. Bruce and Clint were there as planned, Natasha had invited with her Scott Lang, and his girlfriend, Hope van Dyne, the daughter of one of the richest tech moguls in the industry. No one knew how they fit together. Somehow while having extremely questionable morals, repeatedly caught shoplifting and vandalizing public spaces, Scott treated Hope like a queen, always taking her out and buying her gifts (no one questioned where the money came from, but pickpocketing tourists and making elicit deals was definitely on the table). Peter Quill came along, and obviously brought his Homecoming date Gamora, and Peter Parker was dragged along at the last second. Clint was absolutely horrified when Parker told him that all he had planned that night was “studying for chem and watching the original Star Wars trilogy”, so he forced him out.

“We have a duty to show this guy a good time tonight,” Clint announced to the group as they walked to the station, “I mean, now that I think about it, I have never seen you drink or smoke or anything. Have you ever done something illegal?”

Parker shrugged sheepishly and laughed, “I don’t really have time, I’m taking two extra classes, and science is really time consuming-.” Clint rolled his eyes.

“See? This guy clearly needs our help, it’s our job to save him.”

“Aw, Clint, don’t pressure him,” Gamora teased, “I think it’s sweet he prioritizes his school work.”

“I mean obviously we’re gonna get him wasted tonight,” Quill chimed in, “wait- haven’t you gotten accepted to college already?” Parker was visibly turning red on the spot.

“Yeah…” he said, looking slightly embarrassed, “Harvard accepted me early decision…” Everyone in the group gasped and congratulated him, easing his nervousness.

“That’s my point!” Clint exclaimed, “you’ve been accepted already, you’re already done. This is your chance to get thoroughly fucked up..” 

“I mean, it has to happen before you graduate,” Scott added, “when you go to Harvard, everyone will be studying, and being smart, and curing cancer, and whatever. They’ll be too busy and ‘mature’ to down eight shots and jump into a hot tub fully clothed with a bottle of champagne.”

“While I do want to hear the story behind that, don’t worry, we’ll take of you if you go too hard.” Natasha told Parker, reassuring him.

“Even though that’ll be impossible.” Clint stepped in.

* * *

The group arrived at the park they were going to stay until the game started. It was a beautiful day, very warm for the fall, and everyone was taking advantage of it. A playground not far off was filled with playing and screaming children, with their babysitters and parents standing by. In the park, groups of other students were relaxing, ready to take advantage of the weekend. There seemed to be a work event happening nearby, young adults all wearing solid colored t-shirts with the logo of a startup company had food and a bean bag toss and were drinking in celebration.

This was perfect. This is exactly what high school was about. Relaxing with friends in great weather, with a whole night ahead of them which none of them could predict. 

Scott had brought “his goodie bag”, as he called it. Everyone was excited, ready to start the journey that would send them on an upward climb for hours. None of them, not even Peter Parker, was going sit through an entire football game sober.

Scott pulled out a mason jar of pre-rolled joints, and began passing them out searching for his lighter in his pocket at the same time. 

“Today’s on me, I have a lot more where that came from, but don’t expect a lot of free passes from now on.” He joked, lighting the joint between his lips first before passing it on. 

Gamora pulled out two six packs of beer, pretty lukewarm from having been in her locker wrapped around three plastics bags to hide the logo, and hidden in her gym bag all day, but they were high schoolers. They weren’t picky.

Bucky laid down on the grass, taking a long drag of the joint, and closed his eyes, his heart racing. No one around them cared. They had all turned, or were about to turn, eighteen, and on a Friday afternoon, everyone was too wrapped up in their individual events to care about a group of students keeping to themselves up on the hill. Still, the adrenaline from the fact that they weren’t  _ technically _ supposed to be doing this made it all the more exciting. Knowing that they were going to a school event, most likely baked already, where their teachers would be, made excitement spike in Bucky’s stomach. What if Steve caught him, he wondered, what if Steve saw his bloodshot eyes and  _ knew _ ? Bucky, determined, put Steve out of his mind, took another long drag, packing the smoke in his lungs letting it dissipate into the air. 

They joked about meeting Tony’s girlfriend, who he was with right now, Bruce added, getting ready to take her to the game and meet everyone. Quill, among others, was skeptical, knowing Tony’s repertoire with girls at the school, but after Bucky and Clint showed him the Instagram they had gotten earlier that week, people started to change their minds. 

“I mean, that’s just not his thing. And clearly Gamora and I are the cutest couple, so he’s kind of coming for my brand here.”

“It’s Tony, knowing him it’ll only last a week.” Scott waved his armed lazily, not even bothering to move from his lying down position, his cap over his eyes.

“I don’t know, he seems pretty into her,” Bruce said, taking another sip of his beer, “I mean the fact he’s even taking her to meet us is astounding.”

“Of course, we all know you’re worried your chances of being Prom King might be jeopardized.” Natasha gave Quill a smirk, “why else would you be so interested in Tony’s new relationship?”

Peter Quill scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What? I’m not- No, you’ve got it all wrong.”

Everyone turned to him and started teasing, even Gamora was amused.

“Of course!”

“The over-the-top Homecoming proposal-”

“With the music, the car, the banner-”

“You think Tony’s going for your crown!”

Everyone burst out laughing, and even they all said they were over it, they couldn’t help but bring it up a few more times before they got over it.

More predictions were made, many wondering whether Thor, the new transfer student, would finally make a move on Jane. Parker was actually able to give some information on it, because of how much time in the labs he and Jane spend together.

“She knows he’s into her, I mean, he’s not exactly subtle about it- or anything really- but she really wasn’t sure he was her type. I mean, he’s a jock, the most intense one at the school possibly. She was going to see how it played out tonight.”

They continued to banter, the warm beer settling in their stomachs, but not enough for any of them to really feel anything. Except for Parker, who after drinking two was already a little tipsy. Everyone was feeling their high, pleasantly giggling and losing track of what they were saying. Gamora was registering everyone's sentences 20 seconds after they were said, Clint was having laughing fits, and Scott was too high to tell what direction was up and what was down. Bucky ears were buzzing, his eyes focusing on the smallest details that would somehow remind him of something completely different. He felt, for lack of a better word, happy, like nothing could ruin the moment. Everything was funnier than he knew it was, but being realistic was boring, especially when the clouds looked like he could reach up and take them. He wondered what they would feel like. Could you change their shape? Or would they bounce back to their original form? Could you eat them? Or would they just-

“Bucky what the hell are you doing?” Natasha asked, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes.

Bucky realized he was reaching up into the sky as if without thinking of it, his thoughts elicited a physical reaction. He blinked, confused.

“Bruh, this guy is gone,” Scott said, smiling. 

Maybe he was right, Bucky thought, maybe I’m more high than I think right now. For some reason that was absolutely hilarious, and he burst out laughing. Everyone joined, having no idea why, but because they felt like it.

“Maybe he was zoned out thinking of a secret someone.” Hope asked suspiciously.

“Damn, does Bucky have a crush he’s not telling us?” Clint asked.

Everyone erupted with questions.

“Who is it?”

“Do they go to the school?”

“Are they hot?”

“Can you show us?”

“You have to tell us now!”

“No, no, no, nothing like that.” Bucky smiled and waved his hands dismissively. “You guys know, if I like someone, I don’t hide it.”

“Holy shit!” Bruce jumped to his feet, interrupting everyone before they could make more accusations, “guys, the game started twenty minutes ago!”

* * *

In a rush, they discarded all of the evidence they had ever been there. They threw away the empty beer bottles and cigarette butts. They brushed away the leftover dregs of weed so the last few leaves and stems were hidden in the grass. Eye drops, gum, and deodorant were shared, because while they were still after a good time, they weren’t stupid. They couldn’t be ridiculously obvious of what they had been doing. Peter Quill was paranoid, and kept convincing himself he could still smell weed on himself, and used so much of Gamora’s perfume trying to cover it up, he infected everyone within a ten-foot radius with a strong scent of roses and honey. Then began the whole ordeal of actually getting back to school. 

Bruce and Gamora were the most sober people there, so it was their job to shepherd the others onto the right train. Natasha acted pretty sober as well, but everyone knew she could just compose herself really well, her mind was probably just as fucked up as Scott’s. They managed to all get on the right train and not leave anybody behind and arrived at the field 45 minutes after the game had started.

Luckily no one was suspicious. Friends had sectioned off groups or rows of bleachers and were preoccupied about other things, not paying attention to the game at all, rather taking the opportunity the game gave them to be able to spend time together outside of school, most of them too inebriated already to notice a group of latecomers anyways. There was a group of teachers occupying the row of bleachers at the far back, trying- and failing- to seem interested in the game, but mostly talking amongst themselves. Almost everyone was wearing their school colors, blue and white, and on the other side of the field, a sea of green of white was all they could make of the supporters of the opposing school. In the rows closest to the field students were cheering and chanting, holding up their banners and scarves. Bucky noticed a sign that said “Number 12 on the field, number 1 in my heart!” and almost got a head rush from how hard he rolled his eyes. 

“I was beginning to think you guys would just ditch the whole thing,” Tony said, waving them over to a set of bleachers in the middle, yet on the edge of their school’s side of the field.

“Are you kidding me? These two wouldn’t miss the dance for the world.” Bucky motioned to Peter Quill and Gamora while helping a teetering Peter Parker to his seat.

“Have we missed anything?” Bruce asked, settling in next Clint.

“You think I’ve actually been watching this shit?” Tony scoffed, “Look at the score board once in a while and cheer when everyone on our side cheers and you’ll be on the same page as everybody else.”

Once everyone had found a spot Natasha was the first to notice the girl next to Tony.

“Tony, you’re being rude. Aren't you going to introduce us?”

“Actually I was just about to, don’t rush me. You guys were the late ones.” He gestured to everyone, “Everyone, meet, my girlfriend. Virginia, meet everyone.”

“Please, call me Pepper.” Virginia- Pepper- smiled and waved at everyone.

Everyone burst into introductions, calling their names out, updating both Tony and Pepper of what had happened since they had left school, and ranked their levels of “fucked-upped-ness”. Before anyone could stop him, Scott obnoxiously exposed everyone and let slip that they had dedicated a fair amount of time scrolling through her Instagram profile. Everyone immediately started denying it, but Pepper didn’t even seem phased.

“I’m glad Tony’s sharing me with everyone. It’s about time he told someone about us, I was beginning to think he didn’t have any friends.

Turns out, they had met at a science and technology program at MIT over the summer and stayed in contact. She lived a few hours away, but- to everyone’s surprise- Tony was so head over heels for her he still wanted to keep seeing her. Subtly, Peter Quill handed Natasha ten bucks.

While Pepper was talking to Natasha, Clint pulled Tony aside so only Bucky and Bruce were in earshot. “I can’t believe you’ve had a girlfriend this whole time!”

“Why’d you wait so long to tell us?” asked Bruce, “I mean, we can’t be that bad.”

“You guys stalked her Instagram not even an hour ago, I wouldn’t label you guys as ‘not that bad’.” Tony looked over to make sure Pepper wasn’t paying attention. “To be honest, I wasn’t ready for how the rest of the school was gonna handle it.”

“Oh come on,” Bucky rolled his eyes, “believe it or not, the entire school isn’t dying to get into your pants.” Bruce shrugged his shoulders non-committedly.

“Not like that!” Tony said. “I mean I have a reputation at school. I wasn’t going to surround me and the first real girlfriend I’ve ever had with people who are convinced I’m gonna drop her at any second for the next girl that catches my eye. And again, you guys stalked her Instagram before you even met her. I was going to make sure I waited as long as possible until she met you guys.”

* * *

Tony was right. As long as they checked in with the scoreboard in between conversations and cheered when the rest of the crowd cheered, they were pretty much caught up with the rest of the school. Bucky was coming down from his high, and a pleasant buzz was settling between his ears. 

“I’m going to the bathroom.” He said quickly to Clint and Bruce, and they waved in acknowledgement. He managed to climb over the bleachers to the aisle and walk up the stairs without making a fool of himself, and went to the boy’s bathroom next to the changing rooms. 

It was absolutely freezing, and there was all sorts of mystery grime on the walls. He noticed the largest stall was taken, so he picked the second cleanest one. 

While he was washing his hands, he noticed a plume of smoke waft from the largest stall out of the open window. He noticed the smell of cigarettes.

“You know, there are teachers at this thing. I’d be more careful if I were you.” 

Silence. Then a shuffling as Bucky noticed the feet come towards the door. It swung open, and Bucky recognized who it was.

“If you were me, you’d know I don’t care.” The boy was leaning against the frame of the stall, in black jeans and a black button down, with a leather jacket thrown over his shoulder. His long black hair was pushed back, and Bucky realized that up close, this kid looked like more of a douchebag than up from far away.

“Just saying, it’s not very smart.” Bucky dried his hands and threw the paper towels away, but he didn’t leave.

“Are you judging me?” Loki challenged, taking another drag from his cigarette. 

Bucky threw his hands up in surrender, “No, not at all. If you were paying attention you would have noticed that my eyes looked like I had cried for hours before showing up here.”

Loki smiled at that. “I like you.” He offered his pack of cigs. “Do you want one...?” 

“Bucky.” Bucky took one and let Loki light it for him. “Call me Bucky.”

While their faces were close together, Loki’s hand cupped around the tip of the cigarette to light it, they made eye contact, Loki smirking as Bucky coughed when he choked on the smoke. 

“Weak lungs?” He commented.

“Not weak, just overused.” Bucky responded. He noticed the accent, it was more British than Scandinavian, but it was strong regardless. “I love this edgy thing you have going on here- I really do, but I don’t really feel like getting suspended today, I have a whole night planned out. Why don’t we go around the back where no one will accidentally find us.”

Loki didn’t say anything, but still followed him as he went through the back door of the bathroom, so now the building with both the bathrooms and the changing rooms were in between them and the cheering crowds.

“No offense,” Bucky said, sliding down to sit with his back to the building, “but this doesn’t really seem like your scene. Why are you even here?”

“Good question.” Loki responded, sitting down next to him. “To be honest I don’t really know. I’m not exactly my brother's biggest fan so I guess-”

“Wait you have a brother?” Bucky interrupted.

“Unfortunately, yes. You’ve probably seen him around, it’s not hard to miss him when he insists on making his presence known wherever he goes. He’s big, blond, stupid. His name is Thor, he’s number 38 on the field.”

Bucky burst out laughing.  _ Thor _ ? The most intense jock at the school Parker was talking about earlier today? Always working out on his free time, drinking protein shakes in class, not to mention head over heels for Jane Foster. He was massive, completely oblivious to his surroundings, and ridiculously positive. Not at all like the grunge outsider Bucky was sitting next to now.

“Thor? But he’s- he’s… Thor?”

“I know, I know,” Loki took a long drag on his cigarette, “I’m not oblivious to the irony of the situation. I’m adopted.”

Bucky stopped laughing. “Oh, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t,” Loki interrupted him, like he had gotten that reaction hundreds of times before, “I don’t need the pity. I’ve met my birth parents and they were twats anyway, so there.”

Bucky went quiet, not really sure what to say. He flicked the ashes of his cigarette.

“What do you do then?” He finally asked. “If you’re not with the jocks and you’re clearly not here with friends because you’re smoking behind the bathrooms with me, where do you belong?”

Loki surprised Bucky with a laugh. “I like your sense of humor, Bucky.” Bucky was going to interrupt him saying he wasn’t trying to be funny, he just said really sarcastic things and people thought he was joking, but he decided against it. “I transfer to a new school in my senior year of high school and I’m expected to make best friends with people I’m only going to know for nine months? I’d much rather just fly through this year and leave as soon as possible after I graduate.”

“Well that’s not very fun.” Bucky said, even though he could very much understand where Loki was coming from. “Why don’t you join the theater kids, they’re always looking for fresh meat.”

“Would I be a total cliché if I said I’ve already auditioned?” Loki smiled.

“Yes, yes you would.” Bucky laughed looking over at him. Loki had a hypnotising smile. A smile that made him want to swipe his thumb across his lips and run his fingers through his hair. 

“What are you doing here?” Loki asked suggestively, not breaking eye contact. Bucky didn’t notice how close they had gotten until he saw their combined smoke mingling as they breathed. “I saw you come in with your friends. They’re all waiting for you to go back out there and instead you’re here ‘smoking behind the bathrooms with me’.” Loki quoted him.

Bucky smiled at his own words being used against him and edged closer, completely entranced by Loki’s bright emerald green eyes. “Maybe something’s keeping me here.” His eyes dipped lower to Loki’s lips.

“Hm?” Loki smirked. “And what could have that sort of power over you?”

“Something I’ve never felt before in my life.” Bucky leaned in-

“Then I hope that feeling comes back later tonight.” Loki stood and grinded his cigarette butt into the ground with his shoe. “I’ll be at the party tonight, and I know you will be too. Come find me.” He swung his leather jacket onto his shoulders and winked before he turned, and sauntered away around the building, out of Bucky’s sight.

Bucky blinked, and honestly didn’t know what had just happened. It was like he had been hypnotized. Loki was an attractive guy, Bucky had obviously acted that way for some reason. But he usually wasn’t that forward, especially ten minutes after meeting someone. 

Something he did notice is that he hadn’t thought of Steve once during the whole encounter.

* * *

“Hey, I thought we’d have to send out a search party for you.” Clint said when Bucky came back.

“You know you don’t have to worry about me.” Bucky replied, settling into his seat. He tried to make sure his return attracted the least amount of attention possible. The last thing he wanted was rumors to spread about him and the mysterious transfer student. 

That didn’t go as planned.

“So, uh, what were you and ‘Young John Travolta’ doing back there?” Scott asked suggestively.

Immediately all heads turned.

“You-”

“And the new kid?”

“What were you even-”

“No wonder you took so long!”

“Guys, guys!” Bucky tried to keep their voices down, “Nothing happened! Literally nothing. We had a cig behind the bathrooms, that was it!”

“Sure,” Tony said, turning to look at the game, which was drawing to a close. “That’s all that happens when you go to the bathroom and then don’t come back for fifteen minutes, and then both wolk from the same location, trying to stagger it out so you hope no one notices, even though you’re not fooling anyone.”

There was no way Bucky could convince them otherwise, so he just let it happen. He realized that he would have pick his battles tonight, and he was not going to get dragged into this one. For the rest of the game, he kept an eye on number 38, trying to find any similarities in between Thor and Loki. Just by looking at him, he couldn’t find a single one. Even the small things like in the way he walked or brushed his hair back when he took his helmet off. There was nothing to say that this broad shouldered jock had anything in common with the sleek and lean mystery man he had talked to before.

Twenty minutes later, the game ended with Shield High School up by twelve points, which Bucky wouldn’t have been able to say was impressive or not to save his life, but everyone else seemed happy, so he cheered along as well. 

Pepper had brought a water bottle of limoncello (of course Tony’s girlfriend brought limoncello instead of a normal drink like vodka or tequila), so they made a detour to the bathrooms. After each person taking a swig the bottle got finished off pretty quickly, and the girls separated from the guys to get changed The guys went to their bathroom and put on blazers and button down shirts which all of them had crammed in their backpacks and dragged with them the whole time. 

When they all reconvened again, the girls were dressed gorgeously. Natasha was in a black bodycon dress with sheer tights and killer red heels that matched her hair and lipstick. Pepper was in a low cut white pantsuit and had somehow managed to put her hair in an extremely complicated bun in the few minutes they were in there. Bucky could see Tony almost- almost- speechless the moment she stepped out. Hope had managed to pull off a yellow floor length gown, and Gamora had found a deep purple sleeveless top with a black miniskirt. They made a quick stop to pile their stuff (their backpacks, extra clothes, as well as Scott’s contraband bag) into Tony’s car which they were going to take to the after party later.

Finally, with their new pick-me-up, they got to the gym, and decided to gorge on as much free food as possible. 

When they got in, they all headed straight to the buffet table, but they clearly weren't the only ones with the same idea. There were other students who were definitely suffering from the munchies as well, and everything got finished off pretty quickly.

In the beginning, no one was daring enough (or drunk enough) to go into the middle and be the first to start dancing. So after the food was gone, everyone stayed within their own friend groups, and stuck to the walls of the gym, so everyone created a large ring around the middle. It took the song All Star by fucking Smashmouth to get people going. Bucky managed to dodge every attempt both Peters made to get him to dance. Even Shuri came around from the opposite side of the gym to try and pull him in, and as much as it pained him to refuse Shuri anything, he could not bring it on himself to do it. He stuck to the wall and internally cringed as he watched people jump around and scream the lyrics.

“It seems I’m not the only one to doesn’t understand this generation.”

Bucky looked around and froze when he looked at who it was. 

_ Steve _ had approached _ him _ ,  _ willingly _ , and  _ started a conversation _ . That alone made Bucky’s heart jump into his throat when he also noticed what Mr. Rogers was wearing.

A simple, dark blue blazer, which brought out the blue in his eyes despite the darkness, stretched across his arms in a sinful way, white button down tucked into his dress pants to show his thin waist in contrast to his broad shoulders. His hair was brushed back, revealing the jawline Bucky so desperately wanted to graze his teeth over. 

What was that about him having briefly forgotten about Steve? Oh right, yeah not anymore.

“Yeah, I know. Trust me, you’re not alone.” Bucky forced himself to stop staring. He was still freaking out over the fact that Mr. Rogers would voluntarily came to talk to him. Maybe he wasn’t just a head in the crowd after all.

“I feel like I’m extremely overdressed.” Steve said, surveying the crowd of dancing of teenagers, now dancing to a DJ Khaled song. 

“I wouldn’t worry about that, I think you’re doing okay.” Bucky said, and he was honest. A majority of the seniors were dressed very nicely in long dresses, hair done, suits pressed and shoes shined, seeing that this was their last Homecoming dance. A lot of freshmen were dressed well, probably because they weren’t aware of the dress code. Sophomores thought they were being super cool by showing up in Supreme hoodies and jeans, while the juniors were split down the middle. Bucky himself was wearing an open blazer that was getting ridiculously small and slightly crushed from being in his bag all day, but he could still pull it off- almost- revealing a casual shirt. He couldn’t be blamed be for the jeans, but he made sure to pick nice ones that fit him well (they did make his thighs look good- among other things). “I honestly think what you’re wearing is working on you very well.”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, your shirt, is very attract- nice- good- appropriate. Dress code-wise. Of course. No-nothing else.” Why does he ever bother speaking? Like ever?

“Thank you, Bucky.” Bucky couldn’t read the expression on Steve’s face, and even though he couldn’t read feelings of complete disgust, he still cringed so hard, he had to forcibly fight the urge to crawl into a ball right there where he stood.

DNA by Kendrick Lamar began playing, by which point Shuri and her crew had monopolized the dance floor. Bucky didn’t want this moment with Steve to end, but he could see his friends approaching him.

“I’ll leave you to have fun with your friends. I’ll see you later Bucky.” He waved and went towards a group of teachers by the entrance. Bucky wanted to reach out and stop him, but before he could do anything-

“Dude what the fuck are you doing?” Clint said as he came up to him.

“This is your senior prom and you’re talking to teachers? Jesus what do you get up to on your free time?” Natasha said, sipping her plastic cup of soda.

“Okay, okay,” Bucky blew off their comments, “you have my full attention.”

Thankfully his friends didn’t dwell on it. Funny how they completely ignore this, yet managed to make up an entire story about him and Loki.

“Come on, off your sorry ass,” Tony grabbed his wrist, “we’re showing you a good time.”

Ignoring his protests, they all got Bucky in the middle of the gym, and trapped him by surrounding him, until he finally got around to doing something resembling dancing to a rap song he couldn’t name.

* * *

Bucky couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun. The limoncello was lightly buzzing in his head, but only enough for him to feel relaxed, his head wasn’t even fuzzy. He danced until his feet hurt, so he grabbed a drink and sat outside on the benches, talking to Tony, James Rhodes, a friend of Tony’s in his design class, and getting to know Pepper a bit more. When they got cold, they made their way back inside, finding their group of friends again. At one point there was a massive circle around Shuri and Miles Morales, leading everyone through the Cupid Shuffle. Which then turned into a free for all of showing off random dance talents.

As they got closer and closer to the end the energy started to descend, however the senior class kept going up and up. The knowledge that there was a whole other party (that would have a lot more alcohol and a lot less teachers) afterwards kept them on their toes, pacing themselves and letting the tensity keep rising.

He went to the bathroom quickly, only to run into Scott and Hope giggling to each other. Hope (who somehow found a way into the boy's bathroom without any of the teachers noticing and was going to have to find a way back out) was sitting on the counter and Scott standing beside her, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. 

“Sorry if I’m interrupting.” Bucky said smiling, but also raising his eyebrows in confusion.

“Nah, not at all man.” Scott took a deep breath and immediately started laughing again.

“We don’t want this anymore if you want to take the rest.” Hope handed Bucky a plastic water bottle with clear liquid filling more than a third of it. Bucky opened the cap and smelled it, grimacing at the sudden strong smell that pierced his nose. “It’s not sketchy or anything, it’s vodka from my dad’s stash. We both shared some, but we don’t want to get to drunk before the after party.”

Bucky smelled it one more time and grimaced again. He didn’t like the taste of strong alcohol, but this was being offered to him, and there was only a bit left. He decided to finish it off.

He coughed, not having downed something like that in a long time, and handed the bottle back to Hope. 

“Thanks for that.” He said, trying to suppress the strength that seemed to be continuously rising from his throat. 

“Don’t sweat it.” Hope added, turning to Scott and was sent into another giggling fit.

After actually doing what he came to the bathroom to do Bucky checked his phone. It was 10:45, which meant not much longer to go.

Suddenly, almost immediately after he stepped out of the bathroom, Natasha grabbed Bucky’s wrist. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, almost legitimately afraid something had happened.

“Do you hear what song is playing?” Bucky listened closer. Sure enough, a familiar beat was playing, the sound of snapping could be heard very clearly. Obviously others had noticed what song it was as well, because chatter could be heard from all corners of the gym, and groups from all directions joined in the middle. Natasha smiled when she saw the look of realisation hit Bucky’s face.

“It’s your song, you have to get up there, everybody’s waiting.”

“Do I have to? Everytime we ever go out- you know, it happened once! Once! And suddenly people expect me to deliver every time!"

“Bucky, you’re the only one I know who becomes a  _ better dancer _ when they’re drunk. When another one of us gets absolutely smashed on flavored Smirnoff vodka and does the best dance to any Beyoncé song ever, then you can pass on the torch, but for now these are the cards you’ve been dealt. Now hurry, the song’s about to start!”

Bucky didn’t want to think about that moment back in sophomore year. To be completely honest he couldn’t remember a lot of it, most of it was just what he could piece together and what his friends had told him. Since it happened the others have never let him forget it. Curse technology and the ability to instantly record events at all times. Now there was a video on Tony, Natasha, Clint, and Bruce’s phone of Bucky dancing perfectly, and very promiscuously, to Beyoncé’s song Partition on the table all while holding- and never spilling- a bottle of flavored Smirnoff vodka Tony had somehow gotten his hands on. Now whenever the song played on a night out (and the rest of them made sure it always did), Bucky was forced to do the dance. 

“Are you drunk?” Natasha asked, leading him to where the rest of the group was on the dance floor.

“I did just down, like, a solid five shots of vodka in the bathroom.”

“That’s good enough, that’ll hit you in time.” Natasha pushed him in the middle of their friend circle just as the first lines were playing, all of them swaying to the music and cheering at what they were about to witness.

Honestly Bucky liked the attention. He definitely would have refused every time if he didn’t. He liked the buzz of alcohol, and when he danced and got really into it the buzz traveled from his head into everywhere else in his body. He liked when he couldn’t feel the weight of his head anymore and his limbs were floating, and he'd just imagine what he wanted to do and his body would just do it. Dancing was a lot more complicated when he was sober. That’s why he needed the vodka to hit quickly.

It didn’t disappoint. As he started moving, getting used to where his body had to go at what time, he could feel his head getting fuzzy, and the warm buzzing feeling in his fingertips. His hands traveled up into his hair, down his neck, his hips moving in a way only alcohol could make them move. His friends around him started cheering him on.

_ Oh baby baby better slow it down, _

_ Took 45 to get all dressed up,  _

_ And we ain’t even gonna make it to this club. _

He hitched his jeans up so they accentuated his ass, and stretched his hands up and over his head. Hope was right, whatever her dad owned that was in that bottle was really strong, definitely something around forty five percent, maybe even fifty. It didn’t make him feel out of control, but it definitely hit him harder than he expected it too. He felt bold and definitely more confident than he normally would. Which is perfect for this song.

_ Over there I swear I saw them cameras flash, _

_ Handprints and footprints on my glass, _

_ Handprints and good grips all on my ass. _

As one hand was running down his thigh and the other was traveling up his neck, he looked across the room and made eye contact with- Mr. Rogers. 

A small spike of panic appeared in his chest, but the buzz of the alcohol suppressed it. If Steve was watching, he was going to give him something to look at. 

His hips rotated in a circle, gyrating slowly, which earned a new round of cheers from the circle around him. As much as he wanted to make unbreakable eye contact with Steve to see his reaction, he couldn’t let those who were literally standing around him and had all of their attention on him know who he was focused on. As he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt, letting the fabric split to reveal more of his neck and his collarbone, he had to satisfy himself with a quick glance, and he definitely liked what he saw.

Steve was shifting uncomfortably, but Bucky could tell it wasn’t just because of awkwardness. If Steve felt awkward, he would have turned away at the beginning, but he  _ still looking _ . _He liked it._ Bucky had to make the most of it.

Practically vibrating with excitement, dopamine, and alcohol, he was still perfectly balanced, perfectly precise in his movements. He ran his hands through his hair and risked a moment of eye contact as he licked his lips, wanting to see how he could make Mr. Rogers squirm. 

_ Take all of me. _

_ I just wanna be the girl you like, girl you like, _

_ The kind of girl you like, girl you like. _

Steve licked his own lips and looked around nervously, as if he would be caught doing something he shouldn’t be. 

You’re definitely doing something you shouldn’t be, Bucky thought to himself through the haze, you’re enjoying this and it’s wonderful to see.

“Bucky you can barely pass beginner french, let’s see how you do with this next part!” Natasha called out to him over the music.

“You know haven’t gotten a word wrong of this song since the night this tradition started!” He called back, getting ready for the part he was most looking forward to.

He turned around and dipped down to touch his toes quickly, legs spread apart just wide enough for his back to arch in just the right way, flicking his neck back as he came back up. His circle of friends spurred him on even more. When he came back he turned his head to look at Steve and made sure he was mouthing the words clearly so he knew he would see it from across the room.

_ Est-ce que tu aimes le sexe? _

_ Le sexe, je veux dire: l'activité physique, le coït. Tu aimes ça? _

He could almost see Steve shudder from halfway across the gym. He couldn’t manage to conjugate simple verbs, but suddenly he could sing a Beyoncé song? He knew that if Steve wasn’t paying close enough attention before, he had him practically hypnotized at this point. He turned around and tugged on his hair forcefully to expose his neck and rolled his back.

_ C'est une activité très stimulante et naturelle _ ,

The French sounded familiar on his lips, he had sung these words hundreds of times before, and he could tell from the way Steve was looking at him, guilty yet unable to look away, that he would remember the way his lips looked speaking these words. He winked and took a step forward as his hands rested on his hips.

_ Que les femmes adorent. _

He didn’t even need to look back at Steve for the rest of the song. He knew through his body, practically flying with all the energy from the alcohol and the adrenaline, his heart beating at hundreds of miles an hour, he  _ knew _ that Steve wouldn’t be able to forget that display.   
  
  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Congrats on making it through the whole thing! I really hope y'all liked it, I had a ton of fun writing it. If you did like it, share what you loved in the comments and if you didn't share it anyway because you gotta get criticism to get better. If I don't post in a while, I'll upload another long chapter like this one, but hopefully, school will take a fucking hint and let me get back to my regular posting schedule.  
> Love y'all and see you in the next chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another long chapter for y'all as an apology for my wack upload schedule! I was so ready to upload this last night and then archive went down, so I had to push it back a bit.  
> I feel like I should preface with the fact that no one in this story drives drunk or goes too hard and has to get their stomach pumped. While being a teenager is all about making mistakes, be safe (don't take a ton of shots because 'a character in this one fic i read i did it')! Also, consent is important, especially when drinking, which might be a little spoiler for this chapter but important anyways ;-)  
> ALSO holy shiiiit I saw Captain Marvel last night and it was soooo good. Def try and see it asap it was so great. The end credit scene had me shooook  
> I loved reading all your comments and reactions from the last chapter, it makes me so happy y'all are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. I have a crazy chapter in store for you guys, so I'll see you at the end!

There’s a moment disillusionment when the lights are turned on after a party. In the dark, all the details disappear and the only way we can get a clear picture is to use our minds in order to fill in the blanks. The stains from spilled drinks and crumbs from dropped and trampled food are revealed, the things we hadn’t realized were lost can’t be found, and the decisions you made in your hazy, foggy memories are brought into harsh clarity.

As the lights in the gym came up at 11:00, there were seconds of confusion as everyone’s eyes became accustomed to the fluorescents illuminating the space, which was quickly followed with mayhem as droves of teenagers rushed to find their things, discard any incriminating evidence, and create as much distance in between themselves and the people they couldn’t look in the eyes for the foreseeable future.

Many of the underclassmen were picked up by their parents or went home in couples or triplets of friends. The juniors seemed to have organized their own after party, but there were whispers by the entrance to the gym that her parents had just found the entire collection of alcohol she was going to have and had asked her to come straight home, no party whatsoever. The rest of the seniors went their separate ways, getting changed or getting food before meeting at Tony’s house.  

Bucky joined his group, letting his mind sink into the happy buzz from the vodka. He had shown Steve everything he could give, and he knew Steve liked it. The best part was, there was still the rest of the night to go, and Bucky still had some room until he reached his limit. 

Tony and Pepper, being the only completely sober members of the whole group, decided to split up. Tony would take Clint, Bruce, Bucky, and Natasha in his car to pick up some more drinks and snacks, while Pepper drove Peter Quill’s car with him, Gamora, Scott, Hope, and Peter Parker to Tony’s house to pick up the alcohol her friend had hooked them up with, and start setting up. They separated at the entrance of the gym and agreed to meet up soon.

Tony’s group started walking the short distance back to the football field, back to the car they had left their stuff in before. Turning the corner of the gym, Tony ran through a checklist.

“We need to make a stop at Safeway to get snacks and sodas, then we make a stop to the corner store by my house- thank god I already went to the dispensary a few days ago, I didn’t even think of the fact they wouldn’t be open this late…”

Bucky was floating, fascinated by the lines in the pavement moving under his feet. He felt like he was walking in place, but somehow he was still moving forward? He couldn’t feel the press of the sidewalk under his toes. His shadow rotating around him as they passed the streetlights made it even more surreal. It was like his environment was moving backwards, not him moving forwards. He was looking so steadfastly at the ground he didn’t notice he wasn’t walking in a straight line until his arm brushed against the building next to him. 

“Hey there big guy,” Natasha led him forward by his shoulders, “you feeling okay?”

“Y-yeah,” Bucky said, slightly dizzy, “No I’m good, just hit me pretty hard.” It was true, whatever Hope had given him was strong. His limbs were feeling mellow, and there was still buzzing in his ears, but it wasn’t a bad feeling. He didn’t feel sick or out of control. Just, wavy.

“All right, maybe take a break before your next round, how about that.” Natasha’s smile made Bucky smile. He turned to look at her, and he burst out laughing. Then she began to laugh. And then he laughed even harder. Soon they had to stop because they could hardly breathe. 

“What’s going on between you two?” Clint walked backwards to face them.

“Nothing, nothing,” Natasha barely got out in between breaths, “Bucky’s just fucking gone.” 

Bucky, wheezing and giggling, used Natasha to catch up to the rest of the group, who were a bit ahead of them at the corner. They were so distracted, they bumped into the rest of the group, not noticing that they had become stock still, staring out towards something down the block. 

“What’s going on?” He asked, immediately being shushed by the rest of the group.

“There are two teachers totally making out down there.” Tony half-whispered to them.

“Wait what do you mean- holy shit!” Natasha pushed through the group to get a better look, “That’s the vice-principal!”

“Ms. Carter?” Bruce squinted, trying to receive details using only the light available to them from the lamp posts. “Can you tell who the other is?”

“How would we know, it’s probably her boyfriend. No way she would date a teacher, she’s too good for them.”

Bucky used Tony’s shoulder to get a better view, not expecting to see much. However, despite the fuzzy darkness, he couldn’t mistake the silhouette of the man wrapping his arm around the vice principal, head tilted and lips locked.

“It’s Mr. Rogers!” Clint whispered to the others.

Bucky’s head was swimming, he almost lost his balance. He felt this sudden tug at his heart. It wasn’t broken, that was impossible, he barely knew him. But he did feel a wave of overwhelming jealousy. He wanted Steve’s arm around his waist. He wanted to feel the persistence of his lips. He wanted, he  _ needed _ , to feel the way his body could press him against a surface, protective and needy all at once. It didn’t make any sense. While Mr. Rogers didn’t technically say he was gay, but still he had basically admitted it. After the reactions he got- he could have sworn… 

“What the fuck?” is all he could say out loud.

“Exactly what I was gonna say,” Bruce said, still squinting hard, “when did this happen?”

“More importantly,” Tony said, finally taking the first step towards the figures, “why are they hooking up next to my fucking car?”

He led the group down, Bucky towards the back. He didn’t want to get closer, as if somehow that would make it more real. 

It was as if the couple could sense people coming. As the group was approaching, the two of them pulled apart. They exchanged a few inaudible words until Ms. Carter suddenly noticed them out of the corner of her eye. She rearranged her clothes, and then Mr. Rogers turned to see them, quickly swiping his fingers over his lips. 

“Hello everyone,” Ms. Carter said professionally, probably not thinking they had seen that entire encounter. She was using her regular, assertive, strict-but-genuinely-wants-students-to-succeed tone of voice. “Have fun at the dance?”

“Yeah, it was great!” Clint said, smiling way to widely. Whether it was from smoking more weed or because he was extremely smug, Bucky couldn’t tell. 

“That’s good, glad to know people are having a good time. Have you met Mr. Rogers? He’s the new French instructor.”

“Bucky here is actually in his class,” Natasha said, making sure she does most of the talking for Bucky so he doesn’t have to say anything. While they couldn’t technically get in trouble, the dance was officially over and they weren’t on school property, it wouldn’t be great if the vice principal was suspicious of them. 

“Is that so?” Ms. Carter looked to Mr. Rogers. 

“Yes, uh, very smart kid.” he put his hands in the pockets of his jacket and didn’t make eye contact with Bucky. If he seemed strange, none of the others seemed to notice, but they had no idea what had happened between them at the dance. Ms. Carter had pulled Tony and the others into a conversation about colleges, and Bucky suddenly became very sober for a moment. Did Steve think he could try to hide what he felt? Bucky knew what his reaction meant. Steve felt guilty. As the others were talking, he turned to Steve

“I won’t forget the homework for Monday. I’ll make sure I don’t get distracted  _ dancing _ .” He made sure to stress the last word. He caught Steve’s eye, and noticed how he squirmed. Steve laughed nervously, running his fingers through his hair. The alcohol in Bucky’s system almost forced him to reach up and do the same.

“Yeah, of course. That wouldn’t be good.” Steve looked away. 

“Oh I know Mr. Rogers,” Bucky’s heart was pounding, veins rushing with strong alcohol, pulling him to go through with the first instincts that came to mind,  “don’t worry. What if when you’re grading my assignments you remembered the way I looked. Wouldn’t that be distracting?” 

Steve’s eyes went wide and locked with his.

“Bucky!” Natasha cut in quickly, speaking in a I-sound-like-I’m-casually-ending-the-conversation-but-really-we-need-to-go-now tone and sending strong signals through her eyes, “Isn’t it funny, we just happened to park in front of Ms. Carter’s car, it’s hilarious isn’t it. Now come on, we should _go now_ if we want to _get_ a ride _in_ _Tony’s car_.”

Saying goodbye to Ms. Carter and Mr. Rogers and piling themselves unceremoniously into Tony’s car (Tony in the driver’s seat, Natasha shotgunning, and Bucky, Bruce, and Clint in the back), they drove off to make the first stop.

“I can’t believe you spoke to your french teacher when you could barely walk straight!” Natasha said, connecting her phone to the speakers.

“He didn’t know! You know I know how to pretend to be sober.” Bucky said confidently. “Besides, couldn’t let him think he could get away with making out vice principal and not have anyone know.”

* * *

 

Here’s an enigma: what’s the difference between a group of teenagers going trying to buy sodas, juice, and snacks for a party, and several inconvenient ghosts haunting a grocery store?

Answer: one hundred years and varying degrees of mathematical skills.

You’d think that it would be easy to get from point A to point B, then from point B to point C, wouldn’t it? Well, with Natasha taking an eternity to choose what kind of juices she wanted to mix with (despite knowing that people were just going to drink whatever they could get their hands on no matter what it tasted like), Bruce getting lost in the produce section (“What the hell do you think we’re here to buy?”), Bucky wanting to buy every bag of Flamin’ Hot Cheetos and Takis off the shelves (“Stop bullying me, I’m _hungry_!”), Tony somehow forgetting to count money and couldn’t figure out which bills to give the cashier (“How did you get accepted to MIT again?”) and Clint knocking over not one, not two, but _four_ glass bottles of various contents, it took them half an hour to get everything they needed and pile everything back into the car, without managing to forget anyone.

When they finally managed to get back to Tony’s place, Pepper and the rest already playing music and had the table of cups and drinks all laid out. It was an impressive display. 

Three six-packs of beer, one large box of flavored Smirnoff Ice, two bottles of champagne, three hefty bottles of Malibu, and a  _ 4.5-liter bottle  _ of Grey Goose. 

By the time they had set up the snacks and sodas they had bought, and Natasha had mixed them all drinks, the first guests were arriving. T’Challa and his girlfriend Nakia arrived, Shuri coming with her friends a little later. Miles Morales and his group of nerds showed up. Even Steven Strange (his last name was very much accurate to his personality, no one could quite figure him out) showed up, despite not being at the actual school dance.

The party really started when the seniors from the football team showed up. Ten or so bumbling guys who weren’t completely aware of how much space their bodies take up, hair still wet from showers and still hyped up on adrenaline and endorphins.

By 12:30, there were up to 60 people spread out across Tony’s living room, kitchen, dining room, back yard, patio, and upstairs balcony. Music was playing in practically every room, hundreds of Solo cups were already abandoned everywhere. Some were outside smoking joints or cigarettes, some were dancing inside. The designated drivers and other members of the Sober Squad were laughing at how fucked up everyone else was getting, making sure people were eating snacks and staying hydrated. 

Bucky was outside in the backyard, sitting on slightly wet lawn furniture, drinking his second screwdriver, timing it so that as he was coming down from his vodka buzz, he would be picked right back up. He knew his body well enough so he could drink enough to have fun and get thoroughly fucked up, but not enough to get sick. Around him was Pepper and Tony, Bruce, Gamora, Gwen Stacy, and Wanda. He took a hit of the joint and passed it to Gwen sitting next to him. Dopamine was being fired behind his eyes at incredible speeds, he felt as though he would never stop buzzing. 

“I’m not saying I’m a genius or anything,” Tony said loudly, waving his drink around, “even though I most definitely am, I’m just saying that this physics teacher can’t tell me what to do when I can basically take over his job and do it twice as good.”

“Okay Tony, we all know colleges are crawling over each other to get you, you can’t tell a teacher to fuck off right to his face!” Bruce retorted, laughing at the memory.

“What do you know, you’re even getting the story wrong. I told the teacher to kiss my 1600 SAT score and my ass and I told the principal Nick Fury to kiss my ass.” Tony was getting a kick out of the attention he was receiving, definitely playing up for Pepper, who was finally getting to hear all the stories people at school had of her boyfriend. “Besides, the teacher calls himself Mr. Fantastic, I mean how obnoxious is that?”

“Yeah I have no idea who that reminds me of,” Bucky cut in, “totally not someone who lectured the college counselor for like an hour about how being a ‘billionaire playboy philanthropist’ is a completely acceptable career path.”

“Guys!” Peter Parker burst through the door into the backyard, “It finally happened! Jane Foster is hooking up with Thor!”

The backyard filled with whoops and cheers. 

“Good for her,” Pepper awarded, “I hope he treats her well."

“He was head over heels for her since he got here.” Gamora said, “Personally, I think she could have done better, but that’s just me.”

“It’s almost one in the morning, there is bound to be more drama on its way,” Pepper added.

“I need to go in and make an announcement,” Tony stood up, “because if anyone has sex in my room I’m shutting this whole thing down.”

As he left, Peter sat down and took his place, sheepishly trying to start a conversation with Gwen. Bucky got up to refill his drink, having the slight suspicion Peter would want space.

Before he could make it to the kitchen, Natasha pulled him aside. 

“You have to help me.” She said urgently. 

“You know, one of these days it’s gonna be an actual emergency, and I won’t be able to tell because somehow everything’s a life or death situation with you.” Bucky said, startled.

“I got dragged into a challenge with Clint, and now you know how I can never back down, especially from Clint-” she started explaining.

“Wait what was the bet?”

“-and I thought we were gonna play flip cups because I’m bomb as fuck at that game-”

“How am I involved with this?”

“-but we’re not playing flip cups it’s beer pong, and you know how much I suck at beer pong-”

“Natasha-”

“-so you have to help me and play on my team against Clint and Benjamin, they’re unbeatable! Clint someone never misses despite being able to trip over basically nothing and Benjamin is  _ literally _ nicknamed Bullseye-”

“Natasha! What was the bet?” Bucky said loudly, managing to cut her off.

“Well, the winner gets 50 bucks…”

“And the loser?”

“The loser has to let the winner draft and send an email to any teacher.”

Bucky paused.

“Remind me again why I’m risking this for you?”

“Because…” she gave him a sweet smile, “You’re the best friend in the whole world and you love me?” Bucky rolled his eyes and smiled.

“You’re lucky I’m such a good friend.”

She led him into the dining room, where everything was all set up for their game. 

“Y’all ready to suck dicks?” Ben said, clearly way past the threshold in between ‘tipsy’ and ‘pissed’.

“We get it, you’re a boss at beer pong,” Natasha said, opening a box of ping pong balls and stationing herself on the opposite end of the table, “but if you’re gonna be a prick the whole time you might as well get fucked cause I’m just tryna have a good time.”

It wasn’t a secret that Ben (declared, by himself, as ‘Bullseye’) was an asshole. He probably hadn’t done anything considerate for anyone in his life, and it seemed that he was determined to display it with every facet of his personality. However, it was also known he had been trying to impress Natasha since soccer tryouts at the beginning of junior year, and Natasha was so utterly repelled by his douchebaggery, she pretended to be completely oblivious.

Clint also wasn’t a big fan of Ben, but there was no denying they were a beer pong duo to be reckoned with. With 50 dollars to the winner, and a disaster waiting to happen for the loser, no one was taking any chances.

Bucky wasn’t even that good at beer pong, he just got lucky. But with hours of being very not sober under his belt, he didn’t know how well this was going to go. 

Even if they lost, Clint and Ben wouldn’t send anything too bad would they?

Bucky sighed as he joined Natasha, finishing off the last of his drink. 

He was definitely getting suspended.

* * *

 

The next half an hour was a complete blur. Clint made every single shot he took, to the point where the crowd that had gathered around them thought he was cheating somehow. Even Ben only missed a few throws, and that was only because he was so drunk he couldn’t tell the difference in between the ball and the moon.

By the end, both Bucky and Natasha had three more beers in his system, while Clint and Ben only had one each, and the winner was clear.

“And the champions remain undefeated,” Clint declared proudly, sinking the last ping pong ball neatly into their last cup with hardly any effort, “and the losers relinquish 25 dollars each.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Natasha downed the last drink. “Bragging rights were not in the contract, so no need to go on about it.”

“You’re forgetting about one part of the deal sweetheart,” Bullseye sidled over to her, “hand over your phone.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” Clint stepped neatly in between the two, “I’ve been sitting on a meme I’ve been wanting to send to our math teacher for ages, and I’m not passing up this golden opportunity to send it without getting in trouble."

“Fine, fine,” Ben held his hands up in surrender, and gave Bucky a dangerous look, “I guess I have to find a good message to send to one of your teachers.”

“Well technically,” Bucky tried to argue, “I wasn’t here when the deal was made. How about we leave me out of the whole ‘risking suspension for a dumb bet by not letting a drunk teenager send an email to one of my teachers’.”

“A deal’s a deal.” Ben reached out his open palm. “Let me see your classes.”

“Nothing too destructive.” Natasha clarified. “I mean, we have to see these people again on Monday.”

“No, no, I promise.” Ben smiled devilishly as he took the phone, from Bucky’s outstretched hand, “nothing too bad I promise.”

Bucky had never been as nervous as he was during the tense minutes it took for Ben to scroll through his list of teachers and draft an email, as they were pushed aside for the next beer pong game to start. He barely knew Ben, he didn’t share any classes with him. Ben had no obligation to not make the next conversation he had with one of his teachers the most awkward conversations he would have to have in his life, and he doubted Ben would even care. Soon he got the phone back, and he almost cracked the screen with how frantically he opened his sent mail tab.

“Chill man, it’s nothing that can get you in trouble.” Ben doubled over in laughter as he stumbled into the kitchen.

“What did he say?” Natasha and Clint looked over Bucky’s shoulder.

Bucky’s mind was spinning from the beers he could barely focus his eyes to read the words on his screen.

“Oh shit,” he heard Clint whisper over his shoulder, “this dude’s an asshole.”

 

_ To: srogers@profshieldhs.org _

_ From: jbarnes2020@studentshieldhs.org _

 

_ Hey Mr. Rogers, I know it’s late but I couldn’t stop thinking about your class. I hope you know you’re my favorite teacher, and I would looove to spend more time with you (working of course). Maybe I could get some private lessons? Somewhere quiet where we can’t disturb anyone, I can get a bit loud ;-). I know I have quite a few exercises I can do for you that definitely deserve an A+, maybe I could teach you a few things. _

_ With love, _

_ Your star student _

 

“I’m gonna beat him up,” Natasha said, turning to the kitchen.

“Wait,” Bucky grabbed her before she could leave, “This isn’t a disaster.”

“What the fuck you mean this isn’t a disaster?” Clint said, incredulously, “this dude totally your asked your french teacher to fuck you!”

“Mr. Rogers knows a student wouldn’t actually send this.” Bucky rolled his eyes, “I’ll just send another email right now playing it off. I’ll say it was an older brother or something who thought it would be a fun joke or something.” 

Natasha and Clint looked unconvinced.

“Besides,” Bucky added, playing this whole situation off as a joke, “I bet Mr. Rogers doesn’t get any action. It’ll be good for him to be flattered like this.”

To Bucky’s surprise, he was eerily calm about the whole situation. He understood the others’ panic, they had a right to be, but he knew something they didn’t.

He could still remember how Steve had looked at him at the dance that night. It didn’t matter what they had seen him do with the vice principal. After their conversation by Tony’s car, Steve knew that Bucky had noticed his reaction, that he was enjoying the whole display. 

Maybe this was the alcohol in his system, but somehow Bucky could tell that Steve was trying to play off the forbidden feelings he felt towards him. It didn’t matter if he acted on them or not, Bucky just wanted the satisfaction of him acknowledging them. He considered this revenge for Steve trying to hide what he so obviously felt.

Despite all of this, all the alcohol he had consumed that night was getting to him, and he needed to blow off some steam. He needed to find a specific person he knew could help.

* * *

The kitchen was a mess. The counters were littered with empty cans, bottles, Solo cups, wrappers, and food packets. Almost everyone was either outside or dancing, reaching their limits for the night. Despite this there was one person within the rubbish, pouring himself a drink.

“So, you actually came,” Bucky said, surprised. Alcohol and weed were pushing him to make bold decisions, and while he was just barely in control, he wasn’t inclined to stop his body from commiting actions he might regret the next morning. 

“I told you I would, didn’t I?” Loki’s green eyes flashed in the dim light, and he smirked as he lifted the red Solo cup to his lips. “Don’t you trust my word?”

“Is it smart to trust the word of a guy I met in a sketchy bathroom who I’ve known for approximately ten minutes?”

“Generally, no.” Loki laughed, “however, I think in this case you’re safe.”

“Safe, hunh?” Bucky took a step forward, leaning beside him against the wall, close enough to see the contents of Loki’s cup. Straight up vodka. “Looking at what’s in that cup, I don’t think you’re gonna be safe for long if I’m gonna be honest.”

“What? You don’t think I can handle my alcohol?” Loki said in mock offense.

“I think that that much vodka might kill you.”

“It takes a lot more than this to beat me, I promise.”

Bucky’s head was dizzy from the chemicals in his head. The alcohol in his system and the THC in his brain with the testosterone now being fired up as well. He couldn’t help but remember the moment in between them at the game and the hypnotizing smile that seemed to dizzy him more than the nicotine in his system. More than anything he remembered how Loki seemed to be able to make him forget Steve. 

He thought- no, he  _ knew _ \- that the way Mr. Rogers had looked at him at the dance had been unmistakable. But he was determined to live in the here and now. Alcohol was messing with his risk assessment, he was aware of that, but he was also too drunk to care. He needed release. 

“Can I add,” Loki turned towards Bucky- they were so close it would be so easy to end all the talking right here, “that I found your dancing quite intriguing.”

Bucky laughed, “I'm glad you liked it.”

“Would it be possible to see more of it?” Loki flashed another daring smile, and the blood rushed from Bucky’s head.

“I mean,” Bucky tried, and failed, to not let the effect Loki was having on him show, “my friends will tell you that I hate doing it.” He leaned forward, bringing his lips to Loki’s ear. “But I'm never opposed to giving a private show.”

Loki showed no reaction, but he swigged at his drink and before Bucky could pull away he tugged him close by the collar of his shirt.

“I’d like to see you try and blow me away.”

“Are you provoking me?”

“If alcohol can’t beat me then I’d like to see if you can do better.”

Finishing off his drink Bucky grabbed Loki’s wrist, “One thing you should know about me is that I never back down from a challenge.”

“Then consider this a dare.” 

Bucky pulled Loki into the house. They weaved between groups of people, darting from room to room. Bucky has been to Tony’s house several times and new it like it was his own. He went down a hallway from the rest of the party, the bass of the music vibrating through the floorboards, and pulled Loki into one of the bathrooms. His blood was pounding in his veins. The weed was making him slow and the alcohol was speeding him up. His movements felt clumsy and he was registering everything seconds after it happened, yet he felt oddly in control. 

“Classy.” Loki commented, placing his cup by the sink and leaning against it.

“I don't need a studio to show you what you want to see.” Bucky breathed, placing a hand on the counter, using it to steady himself so he wasn't quite touching the man in between him and the sink.

Loki used the sink behind him to give him leverage, pressing up so his face was centimeters from Bucky’s, his smile as intoxicating as the alcohol in his system.

“Then prove it.” 

Bucky closed the distance, and Loki didn't push away this time. He met him in the middle, and when Bucky felt his smirk melt away and his lips part, satisfaction traveled straight down his gut.

Placing his hands on either side of the man, he pinned him against the counter, and there was no where for the other man to go but against him. He felt their chests touching with heavy breaths, and Loki’s hands slipped down and under the hem of his shirt, craving the warm skin underneath. 

Pressing even closer, Bucky connected their bodies, ribs to ribs, hips to hips, Loki’s thigh coming between his legs and-

His mouth parted, a deep groan rolling out and his entire body went slack for a moment as pressure was placed where he hadn’t realized he needed it most. Loki, for once, didn't say anything, but couldn't help but bite his lip to keep from smiling too hard as he created friction, his thigh pressing up between Bucky’s legs.

Bucky swallowed, overwhelmed briefly by the pleasure sending sparks through his abdomen. He managed to get himself together enough to bring one hand up, run it through the other’s long soft black hair and grab hold firmly, earning a surprised breath, followed by a sinful moan. Loki liked it rough, that would be good to know. He pulled back slightly to raise the other’s gaze into his eyes.

“A show should be entertaining,” he whispered, “I’m supposed to be pleasing you.”

Loki smirked, breathing heavily and obviously enjoying the persistent presence of the hand in his hair, not forceful enough to hurt, but enough to remind him who was stronger.

Despite this, using the pressure between Bucky’s legs and a strong grip on Bucky’s collar, he pushed him back against the door, so now he was the one with Bucky pinned.

“I do like audience participation.”

Connecting their lips again, he began to undo the buttons of Bucky’s shirt, moaning in appreciation when he ran his hands down his chest.

He continued to massage and press his hands at Bucky’s shoulders and chest, and began leaving messy kisses down his neck. He stopped to lick and suck where Bucky's neck connected to his chest, starting on a hickey. As he sucked, it felt like electricity sparked wherever his lips moved, as shocking as the blood pumping low in Bucky’s body. His fingertips were going numb from lack of blood and all he could do was breath and mumble “Oh my god,” under his breath repeatedly. 

“I want you to remember this tomorrow.” Loki said, admiring his work on the violent purple bruise beginning to appear. 

“Trust me,” Bucky could barely speak, “I won't forget this.”

Loki traveled lower, sinking to his knees, and began to undo the button of Bucky’s jeans.

“Are you sure you want this?” He asked, pausing his movements.  Bucky's moaned in response, all the blood having left his head. “I’m not going to continue unless you say the words.” Loki slowly, ever so slowly, started unzipping the fly. 

“Jesus Christ, please I need it.” Bucky had to force out, his brain moving too slowly. 

Loki paused slightly. Bucky’s tone had sent sparks of his own, and his own heat was beginning to want attention. He pulled Bucky's jeans and his boxer briefs down, giving a half impressed, half aroused groan as he saw what Bucky revealed. Wrapping his hand around the base and licking his lips, he gave two long strokes, wanting this as much as Bucky did.

Bucky hissed, not used to the arousal coming in waves as Loki stretched his lips around the tip, tongue darting between the slit.

As Loki’s head bobbed up and down, Bucky placed his hand back in hair, relishing the groan he received in return, sending vibrations through his whole body. 

With all sorts of chemicals in his head and the electricity in his body, all he could do was breath, moan, feel all the sensations darting and melting, sinking and rising. He didn't know what to focus on. He looked down and almost came on the spot. 

Loki’s hand and swollen lips, wrapped around his cock, going faster and faster as if he  _ needed _ it, with his other hand down his jeans, hard, swollen, getting off on being on his knees pleasuring another man. Much more of this and Bucky- 

“I’m-” he breathed, barely able to speak with all the sensations in his body, “I’m gonna-”

The waves of pleasure never seemed to stop, with everything in his body slowing him down, the sensations of sparks, like pins, connecting everywhere, and the buzzing stopped so the sound of his moans could be heard clearly. His hands clenched, and Loki groaned with the added tension, and he came not long after, hand stuttering, mouth still wrapped around Bucky’s cock, and his own come spilling on the floor in front of him, leaving traces of evidence of the sensations that sent him over the edge.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhh! I hope you guys liked it! Make sure to leave a comment saying what you thought and maybe a prediction for where you think the story's gonna go. That kudos button takes a second to press and it makes my whole day better ;-)  
> Loki is such a twink, I mean, he's a theater kid so what did y'all expect. Also i know this fic can be so american sometimes. I mean, homecoming, beer pong (do europeans play beer pong?), but I'm just pulling stuff from my environment.  
> Again, had so much fun writing this, I hope y'all enjoy reading, and don't forget to share with your friends/ fandom!  
> I'll see y'all in the next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all i don't know what to tell you, but man do I have a crazy chapter in store for you. I very much apologize for the long wait, but I was a little stuck in where I wanted this story to go. Now i pretty much have a general idea of I want to have happen, and i do see where the story might end in the foreseeable future. I do have other ideas and other stories i want to write, and i can't wait to get started on those. however, one thing at a time. thanks for being patient, and i hope you like the chapter ;-) (its a wild one)

 

“That was amazing.” Loki had said, fixing his hair in the mirror after they had cleaned up. He looked satisfied with himself, and for some reason, that satisfied Bucky too.

“I definitely enjoyed that,” Bucky agreed, his words slurring badly. Loki made eye contact with him in the mirror, and he raised an eyebrow in amusement, smiling as he did.

“How much have you had?” He asked, pausing in his moving. 

“Not much,” Bucky said, swaying a little from side to side, “I just s-sound more drunk than I am ‘cause it’s…” His words trailed off slightly. He was aware of everything that was happening, it was just extremely slow. His friends knew he was impossible to have a conversation with after a certain number of drinks because his brain couldn’t move fast enough for him to complete an entire thought. However, this was specific to him, and he knew that once other people sounded as bad as he did, that meant they were properly smashed. Bucky knew his limit, he knew that if he had another drink, he would be overstepping his boundaries. 

Loki didn’t look convinced.

“If I was that drunk,” Bucky paused to let his tongue, which felt like a useless miscellaneous lump in his mouth, catch up to what his brain wanted it to say, “if I was that drunk, would I be able to do this?”

He moved quicker than his mind expected him to, and managed to pinch the other man’s ass, and laughed at the way he blushed and jumped. Loki shoved him away playfully. 

“Fine, fine,” he gave in, “I’ll give you credit, you know how to handle your alcohol extremely well.” He laughed, mostly to himself, and briefly went back to fixing his hair. 

Of the number of people in the theater crowd Bucky knew (which was not a lot), none of them were particularly narcissistic. Despite this, he couldn’t help but think that everything about Loki screamed drama geek. He smiled to himself thinking about it. He would have to remember to buy tickets for the production he’s in.

As Loki was doing a quick once-over in the mirror to make sure he hadn’t missed anything, Bucky stepped up behind him and placed a kiss on his neck. “We should do this again sometime.” Loki turned and shot him his flashing smile. 

“Trust me, I’m up for this whenever you want.”

Together they tried to subtly exit the bathroom, which they should have known would be a plan doomed from the start. Eyes from every group of people were on them as soon as they stepped across the threshold into the rest of the party, which was surprising to Bucky. Before they went into the bathroom, everyone was apparently too drunk to even stand up straight, toppling over each other and yelling over the music, not paying attention to anything quieter than they were. Suddenly, this mass of uncoordinated, obnoxious adolescents had become a pack of animals waiting to pounce on the first sign of fresh gossip. There would be rumors flying when they got back to school on Monday, Bucky knew it. 

He followed Loki into the kitchen, feeling a bit dizzier now that he was moving. If it weren’t for the walls and people around him, he would believe he wasn’t moving at all. At the back of the room, there was a mountain of shoes, bags, and jackets precariously and haphazardly thrown in the corner.

“I really love where this night has been going, I really do,” Loki said over his shoulder as he began to dig through the pile, “but I actually have to be in rehearsal in…” he checked his phone, “five hours.”

Bucky grimaced. “You have rehearsal on a Saturday?” Loki returned a smile.

“I know, it’s pretty ridiculous. But, I can actually stand to listen to a majority of the people there for more than a few minutes without wanting to strangle them, so it could be worse.”

Bucky followed him to the front door and opened it for him. Loki paused before he crossed the doorstep. 

“I had a lot more fun tonight than I expected to. Thanks for not being absolutely horrible to be around.”

“High praise,” Bucky said sarcastically and watched the other man walk down to the sidewalk and get into the Uber that pulled up.

* * *

The night didn’t last long after that. In half an hour people were coming down from their highs, information steadily having become too much for their inhibited minds to process. Actions that had seemed hilarious were now just confusing and stupid, and thoughts that had seemed like a good idea were just… absolutely terrible.

The buzzing had turned into a haze Bucky couldn't see through, the sounds he was hearing were blending together into a mess of noise. In his very much not-sober mind, he couldn’t stop thinking of the green eyes that had been on him all night. He knew that hypnotizing smile could get him to do anything, and he was still not entirely sure if it had even happened. But he was also slightly guilty. Had he really meant to do that? Would he have done it if he wasn’t drunk? Would he remember this tomorrow morning? He left it as a question to face in the morning.

Soon, groups of people were packing up their things to go home. Designated drivers herded their groups out into the street and packed them into separate vehicles, and Ubers were called.

Soon, all who were left was Tony, Pepper, Clint, Bruce, Natasha, and Bucky. Tony and Pepper were sprawled out on top of each other on the couch, sipping champagne from the bottle on the floor next to them through two long straws. Clint and Natasha were on the floor, scrolling through memes on Instagram and playing songs from Clint’s “post-party chills” Spotify playlist. Bruce had given up on trying to clean the mess and slumped into the couch, letting it swallow him whole. Bucky lay down across the couch, letting his legs fall across Bruce’s lazily and pulled out his phone, tapping through Snapchat stories for a lack of better things to do. Everything he had consumed throughout the day was finally catching up to him, and his brain was fully checking out. 

“That was wild.” He said, finally taking a second to reflect on everything that had happened. Time seemed to pass by so quickly, but now the game and the dance seemed like days ago. It was as if everything in the world had come to a halt to let him experience this night to the fullest, like nothing else mattered except him and what he was interacting with. It felt like if he wanted to, he could just stop time altogether, experience everything in his own time, enjoy the sinking feeling that was coming over him, and just let him fall into the comfortable unconsciousness that was pressing around him, letting the overbearing exhaustion win over until the haze subsided. 

“Yeah, you definitely had an interesting night,” Natasha’s voice pierced through his fatigue. “Honestly I didn’t see that coming. You and Loki.”

“Yeah, what was that about?” Bruce said, amused, “You guys hadn’t even met before tonight, and suddenly you guys are meeting in every bathroom you happen to be around.”

Bucky wasn’t even fully understanding what everyone was saying enough to defend himself. He just accepted the situation.

“I dunno,” he yawned, “he’s hot.”

“Seems like as good a reason as any if I’m gonna be honest.” Clint didn’t look up from his phone.

“Is this gonna turn into more do you think?” Pepper asked.

“I dunno,” Bucky said again, too tired to even begin thinking about what this would mean for him in the future. “I’ll think about it. Maybe.” He just wanted to sleep.

“Wait, you hooked up in  _ my house _ ?” Tony asked, finally paying attention. Bucky did have enough energy to laugh.

“We cleaned up, man, don’t worry about it.”

“Still that’s so gross. Like, now I’m gonna be thinking about it. Doesn’t matter if there’s nothing there to prove it happened, I’m still gonna think, ‘Damn, did jizz touch this spot?’”

Everyone laughed, even Tony, even if he was still not enthused.

There was a long, comfortable silence that followed, only broken by Natasha and Clint’s drunken giggles periodically as they scrolled through his phone.

“Guys,” Bruce asked, “What do you guys wanna do with your lives?”

Everyone responded simultaneously.

“Oh my god, I am too drunk for this conversation.”

“Are you trying to give me an existential crisis right now?”

“How are we even supposed to answer that?”

“I was so happy not remembering everything I have to do, thanks for reminding me.”

“Need I remind you of all of my academic achievements?”

Bruce sighed, “No, no, no. Not like college stuff and graduation or whatever. I mean like in general. What do you guys want to accomplish in the world? Like,” He struggled, trying to find the right words the alcohol was purposely hiding from him, “what do you think the  _ meaning _ of our lives is? What is it we’re  _ meant _ to do?”

There was silence. Not even Tony had a sarcastic remark to make. They all tried their best to find an answer. 

“I guess,” Pepper started, still not completely sure with what she wanted to say, “I guess we all have a different purpose. Like, my meaning isn’t gonna be the same as Tony’s.”

“Nah I don’t actually think so.” Clint countered. “I think we all have one purpose. To be happy. But it, like, manifests itself differently, you know? Like my happiness or the way I’m gonna get it is gonna be way different from the way someone else is happy.”

Everyone nodded.

“Maybe there just is no purpose.” Natasha said, “Maybe there’s nothing to interpret or analyze. Maybe we all just live and then die. Maybe we all just make up a reason to make ourselves feel better.” She said this more matter factly than hopelessly as if she was happier to live her life without the stress of having to find meaning in it. 

Tony snorted, “Wow, way to bring down the mood.” Natasha looked up at him from the floor and sneered, but Bucky cut her off before she could start an argument.

“No, I actually kind of agree with that.” He said. “I don’t think there really is a meaning, but, like, we make up our own, and it could be anything. Not because, we do it to make ourselves feel better or to give us something to, like, aspire to or whatever. But because I feel like we need something to work towards otherwise we would all just be mindlessly wandering, you know? We give ourselves goals in order to create something out of it or something like that. So not to necessarily make ourselves feel better or to give us hope, but because the world is just more beautiful when we do.”

There were hums in acknowledgment. Pepper snapped her fingers in agreement.

“The world is just so big.” She said. “If we can have an influence on a small part of it, that’s the best we can hope for.”

“I hate that,” Tony said strongly, a worried, slightly insecure look creeping up on his face. Bucky had never seen Tony like that before, and he didn’t know what that meant. “I hate that. The world and how big and fucked up it is can honestly go fuck itself. I don’t think we realize it, but honestly, we live in such a fucked up time.”

“What do you mean?” Bruce asked.

“I mean- think about it.” Tony wasn’t sober enough to get up and make a grand speech as he would usually do when the spotlight was on him, but he was still heated enough to attempt to make the gestures, even with Pepper lying on top of him. “All the issues in the world that used to be separate- like poverty and global warming and social injustice and corrupt politics- all of these things are now so interconnected and so tangled, to start solving one problem you have to solve, like, ten others first. But with one of those there are another ten problems, and then another ten, and then it just keeps going until eventually you get to the first problem again, but by then that original problem is connected to so many other things that you can’t solve anything.” He stopped suddenly, realizing he needed to breathe. Clint took the brief opportunity before he could keep going.

“True, but you can also kind of say the same about the positive stuff that’s come out recently, and how all the good things in the world stem out of the bad.” Tony obviously wasn’t convinced, but he, for once, didn’t say anything. “I just think if we’re gonna change anything in the future we have to find hope in the positive. Otherwise, there’s no way we can get our shit together and solve the problems three generations of humanity have pushed over onto us.”

“Honestly I think this generation is gonna do it. We can do so much. I think we have more love than all the previous generations combined.” Pepper added, highlighting the difference between her and Tony. Bucky was realizing more and more how perfect they really were for each other.

“That brings another question,” Clint proposed, “What do you guys think about love?”

“What do you mean?” Natasha asked, confused.

“I mean, like, true love or love at first sight or whatever. Do you guys believe in that?”

Surprising the rest of the group, Pepper snorted. 

“No,” she said, laughing slightly, “of course not.”

The group all looked at Pepper, and then to Tony, and then back to Pepper.

“Oh my god, don’t be weird. Of course, I love Tony,” she turned to him, kissing his cheek and smiling, “you know I love you. But obviously, he isn’t the only one I can fall in love with. If something happened to us, that wouldn’t be my only chance to find love. I am compatible with several different people that I will meet throughout my life, just as Tony is and everyone else in the world. There isn’t just one person for us, there are a lot of people we can fall in love with. We just have to meet them at the right time in our lives.”

There was a pause. Everyone was internalizing the information. It was a lot to think about, especially for their minds at the moment.

“I mean what do you guys think?” Pepper asked the group.

“Honestly I just think we like a certain type of person, but we’re attracted to the uniqueness people bring to that type, if that makes sense.” Bruce thought. “But honestly, I don’t have enough experience to really have an opinion.”

“I know it’s sappy,” Clint added, “but I don’t think we have a say in who we love at all. I think it’s decided by factors outside of our control.” He laughed to try and undermine his own point, but no one said anything against him.

Natasha thought about the question for a while before she spoke. “I kind of agree. I think it’s too complicated for us to understand. But I also think we have multiple options. There can’t just be one person for everyone. That’s impossible.”

There was another long pause, everyone starting to feel the weight of the day pull on their eyelids. 

“What about you, Bucky?” Natasha asked before they could all fall asleep, “Do you believe in love?”

The first thing that came up in Bucky’s head was the feeling of pinning Loki against the sink in the bathroom. He thought of the way they felt against each other, how good it felt. But then his guilt came back, questions rose again about whether those actions were actions he fully intended to make for the right reasons. Was that love? Of course, the startling blue eyes appeared in the haze, and the way his heart skipped a beat every time his gaze met theirs. This was accompanied by the feeling he got when he saw the owner of those eyes pressed against someone else just as he had been with Loki. Was that love? How would he know? How could he know?

While the way the world worked was not new to him, he was still finding surprises and challenges within himself. He was 18, experiencing so much, finding new complicated combinations of emotions, complex mixtures of feelings he had never known before. Strangely formulated questions he had never had to ask himself before. There was so much he still needed to find out about himself. 

“I’m not sure.” He finally answered. “I honestly don’t know.”

* * *

If Bucky had ever done anything wrong in his life to earn the wrath of some supernatural power, he was feeling it when he woke up the morning after. 

All the forces in the world seemed to be putting their collective efforts to make the pounding in his head feel like his skull was going to crack open. His mouth was dry, his hands were clammy, and he was a mess.

He always managed to conveniently forget how susceptible he was to hangovers every time he drank. Even though he hadn’t gone overboard, the amount he had consumed in total was spread out. Even though he hadn’t gotten so drunk he had passed out, the human body never forgets, it keeps a record, and eventually, it all adds up. 

Not that throwing up or passing out is the limit, obviously. There is plenty of room before those things happen that can end badly or embarrassingly. But everyone should know their own limit, and adjust accordingly. Bucky’s body just hates him.

He noticed he was even the last person to get up, the living room was empty. When he tried to get up, his body felt like slime formed into the shape of a human, his insides moving around way too much and his bones doing nothing to support the jelly-like substance his muscles had become.

He half shuffled, half staggered into the kitchen and grimaced as he got closer and closer. The natural light from the windows blinded him, the noise from the plates the others’ voices deafened him, and his mouth was still so fucking dry. 

The group all cheered when he entered the room, making him stagger backward for a moment. They were sitting around the kitchen aisle eating breakfast, all wearing strange combinations of Tony’s sweatpants and large t-shirts. 

“Hey there,” Natasha said overly enthusiastically, mocking him like he didn’t already know he probably looked as bad as he felt. “How are you feeling?”

“Lights are too bright and sounds are too loud,” Bucky said, massaging his temples as he sat on one of the bar stools by the kitchen aisle, pushing some of the empty bottles from last night away from him. He felt like any small whiff of alcohol would send his intestines up his throat.

Natasha laughed and placed two Advil and a cup of coffee in front of him. “This is my magic antidote. And drink lots of water.”

Bucky cradled the coffee before taking a small sip, needing to take care of his stomach.

“Dude, do you even remember what happened last night?” Clint laughed. Bucky groaned as he replayed chronologically scenes from the nights before. He was pretty sure he remembered everything. 

“I think so.” He thought hard, “I remember dancing to Beyoncé, the beer pong game, our conversation before I fell asleep.”

“Do you remember a particular encounter with a certain someone?” Tony asked suggestively.

“If I didn’t that would be the most unhelpful clue in the world,” Bucky said snarkily, not in the mood for joking around when it felt like all the molecular exchanges in his head were being bass boosted. “Besides, I do in fact remember.”

“Any regrets?” Bruce asked smirking. Bucky replayed last night’s events again.

“I don't think so, no. I was in pretty much in control for the most part-” He suddenly remembered a key moment. “Shit.”

“What?” Everyone asked simultaneously.

“There was one thing I didn’t have control over,” Bucky remembered. Ignoring the questioning looks of everyone in the kitchen. With much resentment from his aching body, he rushed back into the living room to the couch he had been sleeping on and searched it quickly. He managed to pull out his phone from in between the cushions and rushed back into the kitchen. He opened up his email and looked at his sent messages.

“Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,” he repeated like a magic word, hoping that they would erase the words he was reading.

 

_ To: srogers@profshieldhs.org _

_ From: jbarnes2020@studentshieldhs.org _

 

_ Hey Mr. Rogers, I know it’s late but I couldn’t stop thinking about your class. I hope you know you’re my favorite teacher, and I would looove to spend more time with you (working of course). Maybe I could get some private lessons? Somewhere quiet where we can’t disturb anyone, I can get a bit loud ;-). I know I have quite a few exercises I can do for you that definitely deserve an A+, maybe I could teach you a few things. _

_ With love, _

_ Your star student _

 

“What is it?” Everyone asked again.”

“The beer pong game, the bet. Ben sent an email to Mr. Rogers through my phone. I didn’t mind last night cause I was out of it, I thought it wouldn’t matter. But now I’m looking at this again and-”

Bucky was lost for words. How would Steve react? How could he even begin to explain this, first of all? And then, how was he supposed to explain the way he rationalized it? 'You're being a little bitch about your feelings, so I let my not-really-friend send this email to confront you about it.'

The rest of the group circled around him to read the email. When they had all read it, they tried to help Bucky come up with ways he could fix the situation. The problem with this was they didn’t know about the dancing, and who that was really for. They didn’t know about Steve’s reaction, and they didn’t know about the undertones of the conversation they had after they saw him kissing the vice principal. And with all of that in the background, Bucky regarded the inevitable upcoming conversation with Mr. Rogers with dread, and barely contained excitement.

* * *

As Bucky had predicted, the only thing anyone could talk about on Monday was Friday night’s events. He had managed to avoid any and all interactions with anyone from school from the time he got home Saturday afternoon to the moment he stepped into school that morning. He had nursed his hangover all of Saturday, spending the night watching several first episodes of different shows on Netflix because he couldn’t commit to one to start binging. Sunday he finally acknowledged all of the work he had been procrastinating on, and spent most of the day studying, and fell asleep early for lack of better things to do.

Despite his good night’s rest, he felt exhausted. He couldn’t muster the energy to carry a conversation. It would be physically exhausting to talk to others. He didn’t know where this feeling was coming from. Maybe it was some leftovers from the hangover, but honestly, he just though his body wasn’t used to getting much sleep. He had an idea that it was because he was apprehensive about certain conversations he would have to have today. Addressing the more than inappropriate email with Steve, and clarifying certain feelings he had towards relationships with Loki were hurdles he was not worried about, but was still not particularly looking forward to, simply because he had no idea what he was going to say. He didn’t know what he wanted the nature of his and Loki’s relationship to be, just like he had no idea how to explain the circumstances of the sent email. Nevertheless, time was not going to slow down for him, and he was resigned to overcoming these problems as they arrived. 

He ignored the knowing looks of many of his classmates who had seen him and Loki walk out of the bathroom together, not wanting to indulge in their drama-craving lives. In high school, people were gonna talk no matter what, and soon enough, they’ll move on to Thor and Jane, or Peter and Gwen, or Tony and Pepper, or some other couple that happened to be there that night. 

He went to his locker to prepare for his first class, when suddenly (and in this moment Bucky may have been very lucky or very unlucky depending on how you look at it) Loki happened to walk past. He was speed walking  on the opposite side of the hallway, almost hugging the wall, as if he was hoping to skirt right by Bucky without being noticed. 

“Hey, Loki!” Bucky called out, and for a second it looked like he was going to just ignore him and dash around the corner, but he turn around, and walked sheepishly to towards him. Bucky was considering giving up now, it was way too early in the morning to have this conversation, but honestly, he had already opened his big mouth, and he might as well get this over with, now that this opportunity had presented itself.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Bucky started, choosing his words very carefully, “about what happened on Friday.”

Loki, who all this time had been incredibly charismatic, suddenly seemed out of his element. He was the one who could hypnotise Bucky with his eyes, but now couldn’t even make eye contact. He suddenly seemed very… human.

“Look,” Loki said, very reserved, “I think you’re really good looking, trust me, I wouldn’t have done what I did if I didn’t think you were. But I’m not a…” he struggled for the right words, “relationship type of person.” Bucky couldn’t read his expression. It was a mix of shame and embarrassment, but also indifference. Almost like he himself was pained by his own words, but at the same time, there was a certain detachment, as if he had had to repeat this script several times to countless hook ups and mistakes he’d made in the past. Bucky had a sudden urge to know where Loki had come from, and how he had become so guarded.

“I’m happy to keep doing this,” he tried to turn away, “but if you’re expecting a real relationship out of this, I’m not the right guy.”

Bucky stopped him before he could walk away. To be brutally honest, he had not been sober enough to fully process anything that had happened that happened that night, but he knew that he didn’t exactly have honorable intentions for hooking up with Loki. If anything he was relieved. He had been denying that the only reason he had done it was because while he was with Loki, he couldn’t untangle himself from his spell. He was somehow ensnared in his smile and in his laugh and couldn’t focus on  anything else, and that was something he needed when he hadn’t wanted to process his own thoughts. He hadn’t faced the source of his guilt from which his actions had come from, but now he knew, for better or for worse, he didn’t have to.

“I, uh,” Bucky was trying to formulate all of these things into words now, “I understand where you’re coming from. I wasn’t exactly completely honest that night.” Now it was him who couldn’t make eye contact. “I think you’re amazing, and I love being around you, but it’s mostly because when I’m with you, it distracts me from the stuff I don’t want to think about. And sometimes I need that.”

He looked up at Loki, and couldn’t tell what he was thinking. What was going on in his head? “Basically, I like this thing we have, and if we both need… something like that again then I’m totally up for it. But I can’t have a relationship either.”

Loki seemed to exhale as if he was holding his breath. He smiled softly.

“So, you’re not looking for anything serious?”

“Not at all. If anything, you saying that saved me a lot of trouble.” Bucky was incredibly relieved. If his killer hangover had been a result of bad karma, he thought his luck must be turning around. It’s not often situations like these fix themselves this nicely.

“You’re an attractive guy Bucky,” Loki said genuinely, “If anyone can get through what you’re struggling with at the moment, it’s you.” 

* * *

It was five long, grueling hours that followed until he could get the next weight off his chest. He didn’t have French until after lunch, and he considered skipping the class so he wouldn’t have to face it. And skip tomorrow’s class. And the day after that. And eventually just shipping himself out to Senegal or Mali to get a new identity and never having to face the requirements of the American education system nor the convoluted situation he had managed to get himself into regarding his educator. Then he found out that French was an official language in both Senegal and Mali, and he honestly thought the universe was playing with him.

When he filed into the classroom with the rest of the students, he sat in the far back corner, planning to keep his head down and just do the work, and then talk to Mr. Rogers after class. As it turned out, his teacher was just as happy with that plan as well. Mr. Rogers didn’t call on him, he didn’t ask him if he needed help, and he generally avoided his area. Usually, Bucky would be upset by this but considering the circumstances, he was completely happy with this arrangement.

Towards the end of class Mr. Rogers even gave individual work, and Bucky was happy to focus on the worksheet in front of him for the remaining ten minutes of class. 

When the bell rang, the rest of the students grabbed their things noisily and quickly made their way out to their next classes.

“Bucky,” Steve said firmly, “I need to speak with you for a moment.” Bucky was surprised at his strict tone. He knew he was in deep shit, but he didn’t realize that angering the teacher had been an option. He approached the desk and waited to be addressed before speaking.

“Bucky I hope I don’t have to specify what I want to talk to you about.”

Bucky tried to read Steve’s facial expression, but he wasn’t even able to break the surface. His heart was pounding, but not in the way it usually does when Steve walks into the classroom or brushes his hair back. This wasn’t anticipation, this was genuine anxiety.

“I’m guessing you want to talk about the, uh, email you received from me.”

“That’s right.” Steve said, staring him down from his height. “Do I have to remind you what my job is Bucky? I am your teacher, and that conduct is completely unacceptable.” Could Bucky actually get in serious trouble for this? After all the evidence that Steve was clearly hiding  _ something _ , Bucky was not going to let him get blamed for everything. 

“I’m sorry  _ sir _ ,” he stood a little taller now,, “it wasn’t my fault! Someone took my phone, I lost a bet! That message didn’t even come from me!”

“That’s hardly the point here Bucky and you are well aware of that.” Steve's voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to his words. Even so, he seemed conflicted, as if he wasn’t wholeheartedly believing everything he was saying. “I thought you were more mature than this. I thought you could take responsibility.” Something within Bucky snapped. The audacity. How could Steve point fingers at him for not being mature, for not accepting responsibility, when it was Steve who ran to someone else,  _the vice principal_ , when his feelings were getting a little to complicated for his liking.

“At least I’m honest with myself about my feelings.” He spat. “I don’t run and kiss someone else out of guilt.” For a moment, he thought he had crossed a line. Steve became stone faced, jaw set, striking blue eyes burning holes into Bucky’s face. There was a moment of silence where neither of them said anything. Steve was waiting for Bucky to regret his actions, to take back what he said, and Bucky was doing the opposite, challenging Steve to respond.

_ I dare _ _ you _ . Bucky screamed through his eyes.  _I fucking dare you_.

“How do you know about me and Ms. Carter?” Steve asked in the end, keeping his voice very quiet, as if someone was standing right outside the door.

“You think we came to you because we enjoy talking to teachers late on Friday nights? It’s not like you were being subtle, we saw you.” Bucky replied disdainfully.

“Bucky, I don’t need to explain myself to you. I am your teacher.”

“I’m not asking you to explain yourself!” Bucky’s voice rose. He really didn't. Steve read those texts to Shuri on the very first day all this started. He knew _since the beginning_. “You’re so fucking transparent anyways! You know I saw you and how you were looking at me that night! Have some courage and admit your feelings-”

“Bucky, are you even listening to me? I. Am. Your. Teacher! Do you think I could have just confessed the way I felt out loud? It’s easy for you to tell me about how I should be honest with myself and admit to myself I have these feelings, because you can love me and not be worried about a thing, but I could lose my job for this!”

“You could have talked to me about it instead of using someone else because you were too afraid to think about the possibility that you might like me!” Bucky felt his frustration build. Steve was making him finally realize why they couldn’t be together and he hated it. He knew Steve was right, it was unfair of him to assume that Steve could have been 100% honest with him, the risked were far greater for him than they would ever be for Bucky. At the same time, instead of suppressing it, and getting angry towards Bucky when mistakes like what happened with the email came to light, he  _ knew _ how Bucky felt, and he should have confronted him.

It had all become so complicated, Bucky didn't know what to do. He was frustrated with himself. He just wanted to kiss him, to run his fingers through that beautiful blonde hair, and now he had fucked it up. But he was also angry at Steve for blaming him, for being hypocritical, for showing him the truth: they couldn't be together. Why couldn't Steve try? They could try to make it work, couldn't they. They both wanted it, why couldn't Steve see that?

Ultimately, and Bucky despised this conclusion, if Steve wasn't going to take him seriously, if he was going to continue to hide, if he was going to deny his feelings, there was nothing Bucky could do. And he hated that. He wanted this to work, but even he knew he couldn't get Steve involved if he was so stuck in ignoring this. Besides, if he could still ignore his feelings, which Bucky was way beyond the point of being able to do, then it was probably for the best.

“You don’t get to tell me how to fix this.” Steve’s voice was filled with guilt, shame, confliction, and anger.

“Then don’t treat me like a problem that has to be fixed.” 

Bucky picked up his bag, and left the classroom, leaving all the unsolved problems and unresolved feelings out in the open to fester, until eventually, he knew they could never be healed.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn I know did y'all dirty, and I'm sorry, but y'all will just have to see what happens! trust me, more shit will go down... I wanna thank everyone again so much for getting past 1500+ hits and almost 100 kudos! y'all brighten my day with your comments and likes, I'm so happy you're enjoying the story! I can't wait to share some of the other ideas i have, i'm so excited! don't forget to share this story on your blogs or your discord threads, and remember I live for feedback, so please tell me what you guys of think of this chapter! I'll see you soon!


	7. Chaoter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The play in this chapter is called The Visit, but I changed a lot and cut a lot because obv I wasn't gonna write out the entire play. I added some symbolism I thought would be more relevant to the story, but I would definitely recommend reading it, it's a brilliant play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey y'all, sorry for the long wait, but y'all been known. I really didn't know where to take the story after the ending of the last chapter, but I got it figured out in the end. Hope y'all are even still around to see this. I feel like this is the last chapter, I hope I tied up all the loose ends. I hope y'all enjoyed this story as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Bucky was thankful to have a distraction from his work when his phone chimed, and happily surprised when he read who it was from. 

 _Lowkey_l0ki_ started following you.

Bucky was relieved that they could still talk after their reconciliation type thing after Tony’s party. Loki had even eaten lunch with him and the other in his group sometimes, but Loki seemed happy with his theater nerd friends. Even being friends, there was always the welcome possibility of it becoming more hanging in between them. It didn’t make things awkward, they just silently acknowledged its existence. He was reminded of all of that when he saw Loki’s profile picture, bright green eyes and a tongue poking out between the teeth in his devilish smile trapped in the little circle. It inspired him to take it a step further

 

_Jbb.winter.s:_

Hey _it’s Bucky, how are you?_

Almost immediately, the three dots appeared on his screen.

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Less bored now that I’m talking to you_

Bucky couldn’t help but smile.

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Doesn’t seem like you’d stay anywhere you wouldn’t want to be_

_That doesn’t seem like your vibe_

_Where are you right now?_

Shit. Triple texting. That didn’t look classy. Was he overthinking this? Probably. Did Loki even care about double and triple texting? Probably not. He was always so effortlessly nonchalant as if he didn’t care about a thing, and people weren’t mad because they all knew he deserved to not care. He was just above it all.

_ Lowkey_l0ki: _

_Rehearsal_ 🙄 

_Jbb.winter.s:_

Damn i _thought you were into theater?_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_I am, but not when the director is insane_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Now this is interesting…_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_He literally doesn’t know jackshit abt acting and gives shit notes and suddenly when we’re like a week from opening night he tells me I’m doing it all wrong and I’ve been ignoring his advice the whole time._

_Sorry that was a lot lol didn’t mean to put all that out there_

Bucky found this almost startling. While he knew that Loki found him interesting, he didn’t know that he would open up to him about other aspects of his life. He suddenly realized how much more he wanted to know. 

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_No it’s chill, i like hearing you go off_ 😂

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Don’t say that cause trust me I’ll never shut up_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_I don’t want you to._

_What’s this play even about?_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Basically it’s about this hella poor town and one of the ppl who used to live there comes back and they’re like hella rich now, so they promise the town a shit ton of money, but at a price..._

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Damn, sounds pretty good_

_Who do you play?_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Not to brag or anything but I have a pretty big role haha_

Actually _like the main one depending on how you look at it_

_The main protagonist is played by Kamala Khan, you know, the muslim girl in our grade?_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Yeah I know her, she’s cool._

_Tell me more though who’s your character_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_You’ll have to come and see the play to find out…_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Are you bribing me into seeing your play?_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_…_

_Maybe…_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Well you didn’t have to_

_I was going to come and see you anyway_

That was true. He had made a promise to himself at the game to see Loki on stage. If not to see more of his dashing smile, then at least to support a friend. 

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Wow you’re easy to convince_

_Should have made me work harder_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_Work harder?_

_Why would you need to work for anything when you beg so well?_

Bucky hadn’t meant to send that. Well, obviously he had because he did it on instinct, but he would never have said something like that in person. His heart was hammering in his chest as he watched the three little dots bounce up and down, up and down, up and down- it was anxiety-inducing. A few seconds felt like an eternity.

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_That was hot._

Bucky couldn’t help but laugh. Had he managed to temporarily render Loki speechless? He voiced, or rather texted, his surprise.

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Not gonna lie, i was not expecting that_

_But i’m definitely not against it._

Bucky liked this. He liked this a lot.

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_When’s opening night?_

_Lowkey_l0ki:_

_Thursday._

_Don’t come opening night though it’s always the worst one._

_Come to the second show, on friday_

_Jbb.winter.s:_

_I’ll be there ;-)_

 

* * *

 

Since Tony’s party, Steve had taught Bucky like any other student. He called on him, answered his questions, corrected his work. and did his job. He didn’t give him more or any less. Which is what frustrated Bucky. He didn’t need Steve to give up his job for him. He didn’t want him to give him better scores for hooking up with him in empty classrooms. He didn’t even want extra help or more attention in class. All he wanted was for Steve to admit he had feelings for him. That’s all. If he kept denying it, it wouldn’t be healthy for either of them.

All of his frustration had been building up within Bucky and was bubbling over. He thought he could just deal with it and struggle through the rest of the semester, but unfortunately, his heart wouldn’t leave it be. So during lunch, the period right before he was going to have French class, he stalked through the school to the language department building and right through Steve’s door. 

Steve’s door was always open. He told his students it was so they could have easier access to him if they ever needed help. Probably not for what Bucky was doing. 

“Ineedtotalktoyou,” Bucky said quickly. He had been so determined a minute ago and now he couldn’t stop shifting his weight from one leg to the next. He shoved his hands in his pockets after he noticed how clammy they were.

Steve just looked at him in surprise. He didn’t seem to realize for a second what Bucky had even said. 

“Yes, of course. Go ahead and sit down- if you want.”

Bucky sat down. 

“What did you want to talk about?”

Bucky took a deep breath.

“Look,” he said, getting a grip on himself. He spoke slowly and clearly like he had thought about this a lot. Which he had. A lot. “I realize how messed up this whole situation got. It’s a whole thing that came from nothing. The email a week ago really didn’t mean anything, it was some other drunk guy who just enjoys making life difficult for people. But that’s not the point.”

He looks at Steve’s face. Steve is looking back at him seriously like he’s genuinely engaged in what Bucky has to say, but still resigned. 

“The point is,” he continues, “I really liked you. I thought you were incredibly attractive. I still do. I never wanted you to give up anything for me. I never wanted you to wait for me or anything. I just wanted you to admit what you felt for me. I respected you so much and I found you so mature, that’s what I liked about you. I thought we could figure something out. But I just wanted to…” he paused, “apologize... for what I said when we fought.”

Steve cleared his throat, and began thinking about his words carefully, Bucky could tell.

“Bucky,” he began, “I think it’s good we’re having this conversation. I can understand why you were frustrated with me, I would be too if I was in your position.” 

He shifted in his chair, not out of nervousness, more like he was settling in for a longer conversation.

“I also had crushes on teachers when I was in high school. Sometimes I thought I could never get them out of my head. But I always did. I always found someone else.”

Now he looked into Bucky’s eyes. “I always knew you would too. I was certain I was not the one you were going to fall in love with forever. You’re a teenager, you still have so much to discover. What I was worried about, was that I would give you an unfair advantage in the class. Not because I necessarily reciprocated your feelings, but because you are everything I wanted to be in high school.”

Bucky tried to take in that information. 

“I’m not sure I understand Mr. Rogers.”

“Remember when I told you that where I grew up they weren’t nearly as accepting as they are here today?” 

Bucky thought back. That’s going back to the very first lesson he had had with Steve when he had gotten his phone confiscated for texting with Shuri. 

“Well it wasn't an exaggeration,” Steve said, “let me explain. Even though I was born in Brooklyn, I went to school in France. I realized I was gay when I was quite young, but I didn't have the vocabulary to describe until I was fourteen. I thought it was wrong- at least, the people around me at the time did. I had to face many difficult challenges because of my sexuality.” He paused, and he drifted off for a brief moment as if he was reliving whatever has happened to him.

“Then I see you,” he smiled, “this confident, outgoing, strong young man, and I can’t help but remember that you are all I wanted to be back then.

“The point of all of this, Bucky, is that I am not as comfortable with my sexuality as you are, and that is a journey I must go through on my own. When I’m reminded of that part of me, even by a man as mature and well rounded as you, I retreat into the destructive habits I grew up with.”

Bucky didn’t know how to internalize all of this. 

Steve quickly filled the silence to try and fill any gaps he might have left out. 

“Of course I’m still going to teach you, and maybe we should work some extra hours to improve your grade in my class, however, I believe it would be best to continue our relationship as one of mutual respect.”

Bucky thought about all of this. He wanted to learn more about Steve’s past but he knew now was not the moment to ask questions about it. It’s important to acknowledge the struggles of those who came out before to appreciate the freedom you now have. And Bucky has a lot. He can hook up with both guys and girls without anyone batting an eye and he has an incredible group of amazing friends who accept him. 

In terms of their relationship, it made sense that it was best to leave this mess behind them and move on. Bucky had really wanted Steve, he had even dreamt about him. But in the past week, he had found Loki and had realized he enjoyed his company. On mild terms a relationship with a teacher would be a hassle, always having to sneak around and hide it from everyone. On the extreme side, it would put Steve in danger. He could lose his job. After some reflection, Bucky was just relieved he hadn’t needed to cut himself off entirely from Steve, but they didn’t need to continue this game.

He voiced all of this to Steve.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” Steve said with a smile. “I think this is better for both of us.”

They talked for a while longer, mostly describing their motives with certain actions and clarifying their feelings at certain points over the past few weeks since school started, and they even made an appointment to meet for tutoring, because they both agreed, Bucky’s grade in French was abysmal.

When Bucky left Steve’s office, the relief he felt was unquantifiable. It felt like his head was clear for the first time in weeks. 

* * *

 Bucky had never been to one of the school theater shows. Not that he was against it, he just thought there were other things he could be doing with his time. Everyone knew the stereotype about high school theater.

Going into the experience with no expectations (and the ones he had set were fairly low), he was honestly surprised to see a line outside of the theater. The majority of them were kids he recognized from school together in clumps, athletes in sweatpants and hoodies with the school mascot and colors coming from games and practices, kids from all grades arriving from dinner plans and hangouts to come and support their friends, or just have something to do after getting high on a Friday night. 

Bucky waited by himself at the end of the line, scrolling through his phone so he wouldn’t look too lame. He didn’t have to wait by himself for long though, because Gwen Stacy and Peter Parker pulled up behind him, and not long after that, Carol Danvers came to join them.

Not to be “that guy” but Carol could slap Bucky across the face and he would probably apologize. Carol Danvers is the most intelligent, most kindhearted, most charismatic girl he’s ever known, and damn, could that girl throw a punch. The last class they had together was history in freshman year, and since then they had only liked each other’s Instagram posts and complained together every now and then about tedious assignments, but he had always liked talking to her.

“Hey y’all,” she said smiling, “good to see so many people coming.”

“Did you work on this production?” Peter asked.

“Oh god no, with college applications and everything? There’s no way I could have dedicated so much time to theater, even crew. I stopped by and painted some props, but otherwise, I kept out of this one. Don’t worry,” she winked” you’ll see me on the stage in a couple of months for the winter show, and I’m doing some costume work for the musical.”

“I had no idea you were into theater.” Bucky said, surprised.

“No one does usually,” Carol laughed, “I’m not going to dedicate my life to it or anything. I just really enjoy the vibes, everyone’s so supportive” 

Before they could continue the conversation, a group of people entered the line behind them.

“Hello everyone,” a professional sounding voice intervened, with a slight hint of an English accent, “happy to see you supporting your fellow students.”

The one who spoke was none other than the Vice Principal, Peggy Carter. Behind her, the geography teacher Mr. Wilson, the biology teacher Mr. Murdock with his support cane, and behind them, Bucky’s own french teacher Steve.

Bucky smiled politely at them all, and waved at Steve, glad that they got their issues sorted out before seeing each other. Bucky imagined an entire year having to avoid Steve at school events like this, and was thankful he didn't have to deal with that kind of stress.

“Of course!” Gwen replied, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts and into the present, “we know how hard the others have worked on this production, it would be unfair of us not to take the time to see it,”

“The theater kids have been walking around like coffee-fueled zombies for a week.” Carol added, “It’s actually been more scary than inconvenient. They’re usually so loud and energetic and suddenly because of tech week it’s like we’re living in a Tim Burton movie.”

The teachers laughed at that, 

“Yes, it has been strange. But they do it for a reason.” Mr. Murdock agreed.

“Honestly I could never.” Mr. Wilson interjected, “I mean, I have to be in bed by 8 or I can’t function the next day. They must really have passion for it if they’re not getting home until like 10 and still making it to school on time.”

“Maybe it’s just cause you’re getting old,” Steve nudged Mr. Wilson jokingly.

The teachers left them to their conversation, and they approached the entrance to the theater at a steady pace when the doors opened.

Bucky had been in their school’s theater once when they had taken the practice SATs almost two years ago. It had looked more like an enclosed box than a theater to him. A large windowless hall with bare walls painted black and high ceilings, with large heavy lights hanging from the rafters and a walled off area in the corner with long tables, crammed with computers, technical boards, scripts, highlighters, tape, random screws, and nails, often with empty Starbucks cups and soda cans from the last rehearsal. At the time the room had looked miserable, it had been filled with monotonous rows of chairs behind tables, each with its own PSAT packet and answer booklet. But now, it had completely transformed.

The walls and the floor, which had previously been black, were now a mix of blues in swirling patterns, like a Van Gough painting. The lights from above washed the room in a soft yellow light, and soft music was playing from the speakers. A large balcony was on the far wall, with a spiral staircase leading up, and a piano underneath it, painted yellow in the same hues as the blues on the floor. The seats were placed so that there were audience members facing each other from opposing sides, so the stage was a large runway almost, running across the entire theater from the entrance to the lobby to the balcony against the wall that Bucky guessed separated the backstage area. Lightbulbs hanging from the ceiling over the audience ignited the majority of the room, and the stage lights flit the stage softly

Carol, Gwen, Peter, and Bucky all managed to get seats in the third row, and looked out for familiar names on the program. Bucky noticed that Loki’s name and character was second in the list, only after Kamala Khan, who played the lead. There were a lot more students involved than Bucky had thought, and he was beginning to get genuinely excited. Everything had been designed, built, organized, rehearsed, and executed by the students, and he was genuinely impressed, looking at the balcony again, imagining how a group of students managed to put that together safely. The poster art for the show was on the front cover of the program, the words  _The Visit_ in bold letters at the top. It was a digital drawing of a winding snake, surrounded by mysterious shapes and symbols. The snake’s head was yellow and its tail was blue, and its body was green where the two colors met. Would Loki’s character be the snake, or the one who to be tricked by it?

After the audience had settled into their seats, the lights began to dim, and the audience fell silent. There was an opening speech by the director, an energetic man with shock white hair Bucky had never seen in the school before in his life, and, finally, all the lights faded out for the start of the show.

There was an interesting opening sequence, where students dressed in ripped, stained clothing shuffled miserably on stage, each in a slightly different way that reflected their character. There was a certain punk rock aesthetic to the costumes. Lots of chains, leather, spikes, and graphic t-shirts with crosses, angels, and skulls. Bucky barely knew anyone in this production anyway except for Kamala, and Loki obviously, but the stage makeup made it even harder to recognize the students. They had completely transformed themselves from high school students into disheveled, hopeless, punk rockers. However, he knew that none of the actors on stage was Loki.

Bucky really didn’t think he would like the play, high school students aren’t typically celebrated for their acting capabilities. Contrary to what he had believed, he really got into the story. A town that had fallen on hard times was receiving a visit (hence the name of the play) from a former resident named Claire, who had become a millionaire, and they needed to make a good impression in hopes that she might help them and give them much needed funds. Kamala played one of the residents in the town, Anton, who had known Claire well in the past before she had left, and it was his job to try to convince her to pay them the money. Bucky thought this genderbent version of the protagonist was pretty interesting, and Kamala was a wonderful performer. He thought that he might have heard a rumor of her having been accepted to a conservatory program for acting on the east coast.

However, throughout the first twenty five minutes, Loki still hadn’t appeared. Bucky was wondering if his part really was as big as he had said it was. Maybe he was just messing with him? 

After thinking those words, Bucky realized that he should never doubt Loki’s word again. The energy on stage shifter as if Loki had heard his thoughts and was hellbent on proving him wrong.

The characters on stage were whispering to each other, looking at the end of the runway where the entrance to the stage from the lobby was, and the sound of a train pulling into a station could be heard. As the train approached and the sound got louder, the ensemble went from curious, to anxious, to panicked. Suddenly, the mayor of the town played by a junior Bucky didn’t know screamed, “It’s her! She’s coming!” The townspeople burst into chaos, running all across the theater. Bucky didn’t know where to look. One of the townspeople fainted, and was dragged off to the side by the town doctor. A mother attempted to herd her children into an orderly tableau and began fussing with their hair and their clothes. Two others rolled out a banner with the words ‘WELCOME HOME CLAIRE’, but kept getting tangled in it in their rush to hold it up. Above all of this the sound of the approaching train as it got louder and louder and the mayor was screaming: “Hurry! Hurry! Get the Professor! Get the Sheriff! Get my wife! Hold up the banner! Everything! Has! To! Be! Perfect!” 

The townspeople eventually settled loudly and haphazardly tableau in front of the balcony with tense smiles and wide anxious eyes. As the sound of the train silenced an incredibly intricate and detailed throne was brought in on wheels, pushed by two boys to years below Bucky. Sitting on the throne, looking absolutely incredible, was Loki.

His hair had been brushed back into a high ponytail, not a single hair was out of place. Gold eyeshadow, thick eyeliner, and extravagant thick eyelashes made his emerald eyes shine so bright, they could probably illuminate the theater by themselves. 

If all of this wasn’t enough, Loki was dressed in a floor length cocktail dress. It was made entirely of white and gold sequins and had a slit up past the knee. He had gold bracelets, rings, necklaces, even earrings. Were his ears pierced? Bucky hadn’t noticed if they were.

The stage lights weren’t reflecting off of him, he was emanating light himself. It would look tacky on anyone else, but because of the context, and because it was him, Loki looked better than anyone. He transcended gender. He looked like a deity. 

Loki rose out of the throne and Bucky could see under the hem of his dress the bottom of two black high heels. They were tall and skinny, yet he moved in them perfectly, practically floating across the stage. He moved with confidence, like he knew he held all the power in the room, which he did. Everyone was staring at him and holding their breath in anticipation, as if waiting for him to give permission for them to breath. Bucky would have happily kneeled at his feet if he had asked for it.

If that wasn’t enough, Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off of the bold, sexy dark lipstick coated his lips, and Bucky had never needed to be close to them. He wanted to kiss them, lick them, bite them. He wanted Loki to leave marks on his neck, on his chest. 

“My friends,” Loki said, reaching out his arms and looking over the audience, as if they were the anxious townspeople as well. “How good it is to see you all again after all these years.”

Still, no one bothered to speak. Loki walked around the space, looking in wonder at the town. He made eye contact with Bucky, and his breath hitched. But Loki didn’t break character. He looked at Bucky as if Bucky was just another random member of the audience. This filled Bucky with frustration and admiration. Loki smiled when he saw the townspeople, the banner, and the mayor looking expectantly and hopefully up at him. 

“It’s been many years since I last laid eyes upon these buildings. How…” He paused, searching for the word, “disappointing it all is. It doesn’t have an ounce of the beauty I remember.”

The townspeople looked nervously to the mayor, to Loki, and back to the mayor, waiting for a hint of what to do.

“But no matter,” Loki smiled. “I will bring this town back to its former glory. Tell me, mayor, how do you do?”

“The mayor smiled gratefully for an opportunity to speak. The mayor introduced herself and the Sheriff and the Professor, who each jumped at the opportunity to speak with Loki, with Claire. 

Loki treated them all the same. Like they were adorable little children, begging for his attention. When Kamala entered the stage, Loki smiled devilishly. It was the same smile he had given Bucky while they were in the bathroom at Tony’s party. 

“Anton! Why, you haven’t changed at all since we last saw each other.”

“Claire!” Kamala responded. “How good it is to see you. You haven’t changed either.”

“Wrong Anton, oh, how very wrong you are. I’ve changed more than you can imagine. It is foolish to assume I am the same.” Kamala smiled hesitantly, not knowing how to react to that comment. Loki returned the smile and sat back down on the throne.

“But I remember back then. How young we were. How naive we were.” Loki suddenly got a mischievous look. “Call me by the name you used to call me.”

Kamala looked embarrassed, and glanced at all the townspeople behind her.

“Here? Now?”

“Why not here? Why not now?” Loki pushed. 

Kamala glanced again behind her and mumbled something.

“What did you say?”

“My kitten!” Kamala blurted out, looking nervously behind her, as the townspeople began to snicker.

“Ah yes! I remember! Wasn’t there another name?”

Kamala hesitated again, “My goddess!” More snickering from the townspeople, and from the audience. 

“What a good memory you have,” Loki sighed in satisfaction. “Why don’t we go to our favorite place again. I would love to see what it looks like now.” Bucky could tell Loki was enjoying himself. He could now understand the appeal theater would have to someone like Loki. Not only getting to be someone else, but someone with so much power that an entire room full of people wouldn’t be able to take their eyes off you, and would obey every order, even if it was scripted. Constantly in the shadow of his older brother, Loki must be getting high off of this newfound drug: attention. 

The rest of the first act was Loki and kamala reliving some of their old memories. It was so strange, Loki seemed completely transformed, yet a part of him seemed to remain in the character. There were countless times where Loki seemed to be acting as himself, but it still fit in the context of the character. 

The chemistry between Loki and Kamala was incredible, it was as if they were really lovers reunited again. Bucky wondered how much time they had spent together in order to create such a seamless performance. Did they get tired of each other? Or do they know each other better than their own families do?

Claire, the character, tells Anton that she’s willing to give a billion dollars to the town as a gift, but for a price that she plans to announce in front of the entire town. The last scene of the first act is dramatic, and Bucky could actually feel himself sitting at the edge of his seat. He was invested.

“Yes, I do plan on giving a large sum of money to the town.” Loki says in front of the townspeople, who are huddled at the edges of the stage, some of them even kneeling in front of the audience. “As a former resident of this town, I am saddened to see it has fallen on such hard times. I want to do all I can help. On one condition.”

“Of course, anything.” The mayor says excitedly. 

“In return for my gift,” Loki’s sweet smile turns into a look of rage and he says the next words slowly, but hard and sharp, “I want Anton killed.”

There’s a gasp from the townspeople, and from many of the audience members as well.

“Killed? How- What do you mean?” The mayor looks aghast. Bucky has to remember to compliment her after the show. She’s incredible.

“You want to know why I left all those years ago?” Loki says loudly, revenge and anger fueling his voice. He has completely changed from the dazzling smiling lady he had been so far. “I didn’t leave I was forced out! I was pregnant with Anton’s child, and he denied it!”

Loki was walking across the stage in long strides, looking at every audience member in the eyes, as if they were the ones who had done him wrong all those years ago. “No one would help me! No one would even look at me! I was seen as a disgrace! After all that time standing by Anton’s side he discarded me like I meant nothing. Well, since I was looked down on so much, I decided to leave. I have been married six times, and each of my dear husbands fell victim to, let’s say…” Loki smiled, thinking of the right words, “unfortunate tragedies. Now I’m back, stronger and more powerful than ever. And I want Anton to pay for what he did to me!”

Kamala ran center stage and faced Loki, a defiant yet determined look on her face.

“My kitten how could you! After all we’ve been through-”

“You mean after all you put me through!” Loki retaliated. “Don’t think for one second you can win me over with your lies!” Bucky was almost genuinely scared of Loki. He seemed to be in a frenzy, completely engulfed by the character’s hatred. “I have been waiting for this for years.”

“How dare you!” The mayor broke through the crowd of townspeople and joined Kamala in facing down Loki. “We wouldn’t sell out one of our own regardless of how much money was offered. We may be poor Claire, but we are not animals!”

Everyone in the theater was taken aback at these powerful lines. Kamala and the mayor were surrounded by the other townspeople in solidarity. Loki turned to face away from them as if admitting defeat, but he had that devilish smile on his face again. 

“You are all adorable…” He laughed. He then spun around in a flash of light, his dress whipping around him, and cried “I can wait!”

* * *

 At the intermission, Bucky, Carol, Gwen, and Peter marveled at the talent and effort shown in the play. Bucky seemed to be one of the only ones surprised by the level of professionalism shown. Most of the people there, students, teachers, and parents, had seen at least one of the other school plays and apparently, this level of skill is the norm for the school.

“You should have seen the musical two years ago, it was a brilliant steampunk version of _Ghost Quarte_ t. At one point they had a girl in the rafter singing and everyone carrying candles it was beautiful.”

“They literally did a six hour play called _The Kentucky Cycle_ for the fall play last year. They had to split it into two parts. Imagine having to do two plays basically in the amount of time most people struggle to do one?”

 “You didn’t see _A My Name Is Alice_? That’s one of the school’s most iconic musicals! It was an all female cast about feminism, it was so empowering, not to mention the musical talent.”

The second act of the play was a lot more unsettling than the first. For the majority of it, Loki was sitting up on the balcony, observing what was happening down below. As the act progressed, Anton, Kamala, started noticing people buying more and more expensive things. When asked how they paid for it, everyone responded that they bought it on credit. Anton decided to ignore it, until the sheriff, the doctor, even his wife started buying more things on credit, as if they were expecting to come into a hefty amount of money soon. He tried to talk to the mayor about it, but she dismissed his worries, and was also found to be wearing brand new shoes. When Anton tried to leave in secret, the entire town intercepted him at the station. 

Bucky could tell when the end of the play was approaching when Loki and Kamala had a scene together right before the trial that would send Anton to his death. Kamala’s character realized everything that he had done wrong to Claire, and understood why she had pursued him, he even admitted to deserving his punishment. 

“You’ll make me suffer for a few hours. I’ve made you suffer your entire life. Revenge is never as painful as betrayal." she said.

Loki was so different from the evil, manipulating character he had been before. He was afraid of what would happen. He was sympathetic. He felt regret. Bucky didn't know how many more sides of Loki he had yet to discover. 

At the end of the play, the town had unanimously voted for Anton’s execution, and after Kamala’s brilliant monologue detailing the dangerous influences of money and how it can change people, force them to make terrible decisions and commit to terrible actions. When the crowd of townspeople dispersed and Kamala’s body was lying on the ground. Loki approached it, looking at it as if he didn’t really believe it was dead. The goal his character had dedicated her entire life to was now fulfilled, and it almost seemed like she had lost the will to live. Regardless, he handed a check to the mayor, as promised, and everyone except for him and Kamala’s body left the scene. A spotlight illuminated the stage, and Loki standing proud yet staring distraught at Kamala’s body was the last thing to be seen on stage before the final black out. 

The theater erupted in applause, cheering bubbling up from all around the theater. After a few moments, all the lights came up again and the actors bowed, and some members of the audience, presumably parents and best friends, stood up automatically. Loki and Kamala, the two leads and the only seniors in the show, separated themselves from the rest of the group and bowed a second time. The whole cast held their hands  out to the tech booth in the corner, where five or so heads with headsets poked up from behind the monitors and the boards and waved to the audience. After a few more seconds of applause, the cast retreated back stage, and the audience died down into their private conversations.

Bucky spent the next fifteen minutes walking around the theater talking to teachers and students about the play, gushing about how amazing everyone was. Soon, actors started appearing from backstage in sweatpants and t-shirts, costumes discarded, erupting in more applause from the audience. Some of them still had their makeup on, some of their hair was tangled and greasy from the hairspray and the gel used to keep it in place, and all of them looked sweaty and exhausted, crashing after their several-hour-long adrenaline highs.

“Here’s my little Ms. Marvel!” An older looking man said with open arms, and Kamala rushed into them, giving her father a crushing hug. Bucky would have remember to congratulate her later.

When Loki came out, Bucky headed straight for him. When he approached, Loki gave such a genuine smile, it made Bucky’s heart leap in his chest. He still had his hair and make up on.

“You came.” Loki said, almost surprised.

“Of course,” Bucky said, “I said I would, didn’t I?”

“True,” Loki laughed, exhausted. “What did you think?”

Bucky was lost for words. ‘Amazing’, ‘incredible’, and ‘brilliant’ didn’t seem like accurate descriptors for what Loki had shown him tonight.

“I thought you were…” 

“That bad, hunh?” Loki raised his eyebrows. 

“Powerful.” Bucky answered. “Breath-taking. Indescribably phenomenal.”

Even through the makeup, Bucky could see Loki blushing. He always seemed so sure of himself, so confident, it was endearing to see him like this. 

“You’re just mocking me now.” Loki said jokingly, not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

“I mean it.” Bucky said sincerely. “You’re so talented. Not to mention beautiful in that dress.”

Loki’s devilish smirk returned. 

“You liked the dress?” 

Bucky nodded. “And the heels too.”

“I’ll remember that.” Loki said, and he let Bucky slide a hand around his waist. They weaved through the audience members, out into the cold night air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaannnd that's a wrap! Wowow that was a lot. Again, I hope y'all enjoyed it, but that's not it! I'm working on so many other stories, and I'm working overtime to try and get a good start on most of them before the summer ends. I've got a big year ahead of me (as I'm sure we all do)!  
> Of course, as always, don't forget to leave kudos and comments, cause they fuel my life, and don't forget to follow the tumblr I made ( https://snitchesandbitches.tumblr.com ) so y'all can get updates on my stories and thoughts! Stay in touch!

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, hoped you enjoyed, remember I live off of reviews, comments, and feedback, so please tell me what you think!


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